


Collateral Damages

by Tashlen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I Don't Even Know, I have no idea where this will go, Inappropriate Behavior, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Multi, Nonmonogamous Relationship, Other, Past Betrayals, Past Relationship(s), Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Probably Nowhere Good, Selirah Is Bad At Feelings, Sex, Shameless Smut, Sith Shenanigans, Sorry Not Sorry, Talk of the Quinncident, Threesome - F/M/M, Twi'leks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:58:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 111
Words: 386,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashlen/pseuds/Tashlen
Summary: Things were never going to be simple for a Sith Warrior turned Outlander turned Empress and a frequently disgraced and reinstated ex-Republic SIS agent. But just when things seem like they're going well for the pair, Theron says something unexpected, and it turns into a catastrophe. As it turns out, someone is actually -worse- at relationships than Theron Shan, and things can get a lot more complicated.





	1. Timing Is Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is from Theron's POV, but I don't think that will happen often. It just.. came out that way.

Everything had been going so well. 

Theron had felt comfortable, even happy, with the way things were going between himself and Selirah. What was there to complain about? She never seemed interested in pressing for a commitment of any sort from him, and she found his awkwardness about relationships oddly charming, perhaps because she likely had some significant baggage of her own on that same subject, being a Sith and the former Emperor's Wrath. They lived together on Odessen without getting in each other's way; a sort of mutually beneficial co-habitation punctuated by frequent, vastly pleasurable sex.

She was proud, smart, beautiful, strong, surprisingly funny, and the affectionate way she said his name in that clipped Imperial accent made his knees weak. Over their time together since their first meeting on Manaan, she had changed, as well. He didn't expect her to ever be someone that could be considered gentle, or even good-natured. She had a slow-burning temper, but it was a storm worth avoiding just the same, and she was brutally efficient to the point of cruelty (and past it, if he was honest with himself) at times. But she also was protective of her people and her Alliance, wanted to change the galaxy for the better, and was intensely passionate about him.

Yes, everything had been going so well. 

Then, he'd stopped her before she headed to Zakuul to claim the throne. She was ready to go, armed and armored, and her amethyst eyes, framed strikingly by the bold black of her extensive Sith tattoos and her bright red Lethan skin, had softened from their battle fierceness when she saw him. Her smile, warm and intimate, was the one that was only for him, and before he knew what he was saying... he'd just.. laid it all out there. 

“Whatever happens down there, Seli, I just wanted to say... I love you.”

He almost stumbled over the words, but they felt right, and he felt strangely relieved after he said them. They were the truth.. he did love her. He'd loved her for a long time, maybe since the first time they'd spoken to each other, on some level. She was a force in the galaxy, a center of gravity that pulled everyone around her into orbit; and he loved her. “You're going to look great sitting on that throne.”

But Selirah's expression was not quite as positive as he'd imagined it would be at this moment, Theron realized suddenly. She looked... well. If he had ever really seen her look scared, he could say that's what she looked like, but he never had despite all the tough situations they'd found themselves in. She always had that cocky, aggressive certainty about her, that everything would just work out the way she wanted it to. (And it always did. Eventually.)

Now she looked almost sick, with a glazed, shocked look in her eyes that made his stomach clench painfully. Just when he thought he couldn't bear to see that expression for a moment longer, it vanished as if it'd never been there at all. And she smiled, bringing to bear on him the ruthless charm he'd seen her use to distract many other people over their time together.

He wanted to stop her from saying anything in return. Something told him that she was just saying it to silence him and go towards the fight ahead, something she understood and knew how to handle. 

But he couldn't make himself do it. He wanted to hear it so badly.

“I love you too, Theron,” Selirah answered with false brightness, her eyes alight with a strange, almost suspiciously glassy appearance as Arcann and Senya joined them. The Twi'lek woman turned away smoothly to join the mother and son pair, heading toward the ramp, and slung one arm companionably over Arcann's broad shoulders, saying something into his scarred left ear that made him chuckle.

Theron stood in the doorway, watching them go as the shuttle lifted off the ground, and for some reason, he felt like he'd done... and said... something incredibly, terribly wrong.

Back in the cockpit, Theron sat next to Lana, taking over the controls so that he had something to do with his hands, but his exchange with Selirah kept circling around in his mind. Finally, he just had to say something.

“Lana.. I...” he began haltingly, as she turned to look at him curiously.

“I can sense that you are in turmoil, Theron. Is something wrong? I know you're worried about her, but if anyone is going to pull this off, it's the Commander,” Lana responded, watching him with her bright golden eyes. 

“It's not that. I mean, it -is- that.. of course I'm worried about her. But Arcann and Senya are more than strong enough to help her, and they can do things that I can't. But it's something else that's bothering me. I'm not sure if I should ask you this, or if you'd even know what is the problem.”

“Oh, do spit it out, Theron. She'll be back before you even get started, at this rate.”

Theron rolled his eyes at Lana, but he took a deep breath and plunged ahead recklessly. “I told her that I love her and she looked like I'd kicked her akk dog. And then tossed it out of an airlock for good measure. I don't know what happened! I thought she'd be happy to hear it, to know how I felt about her. Maybe I should have told her earlier, or maybe she just doesn't feel the same way. I really thought she did, though. Things have been going so well and... maybe I just read the situation all wrong. I know she was married once, but as far as I knew, they had split up even before I met her.” Theron knew he was rambling, but once he'd started, he just couldn't seem to shut up. 

Thankfully, Lana interrupted without concern, as she often did.

“She never told you about him, did she? Her husband?”

“I knew about him, and she mentioned him once or twice, but only in passing, and it didn't seem like it was a painful subject or anything.”

“There are things that even you can't find out, Theron, and I imagine that tale is one of them. I only know about it because Vette let something slip one night in the cantina on Odessen, and I made her tell me the whole thing.” Lana paused, looking thoughtful, and then continued in an oddly kind tone of voice. “I do think she loves you, for what it's worth. In her way.”

“In her way? What is that supposed to mean? Either you love someone, or you don't.” 

Lana didn't seem to feel she should dignify any of that with a response, so instead, she just began explaining. “Her husband was an Imperial officer named Malavai Quinn. They met when Selirah was still an apprentice to Darth Baras, and was sent to Balmorra. Quinn had been stationed there thanks to Baras' intervention after he had been blacklisted by a vengeful Moff, and he worked with Selirah during her time there. They had a rapport and Quinn was an excellent strategist, pilot, and medic, so Baras permitted Quinn to be reassigned to her permanently.

“Selirah and Quinn were inseparable from that point on, though as you know she has always been very close to Vette. It was different for them, and though Quinn was.. very uptight and repressed, they developed a relationship and fell in love. He asked her to marry him, and she agreed. I remember hearing about it, second or third-hand.. you'll remember that I didn't know her then, not personally. Just by reputation as she began to rapidly climb the ladder of influence among the Sith.”

Lana paused again, and this time, Theron thought she might not choose to continue. He gave her a few moments, then prodded gently, “What happened?”

She looked away, gazing out the front of the shuttle. “After Selirah discovered that Baras meant to kill her when she escaped his first attempt on Quesh, she and her people began preparing to fight him. During one of their preparatory missions, Quinn tricked her. Lied to her about some piece of equipment that Baras' ships had that allowed them clearance for Corellia and the war there. He was Baras' creature, you see.. he had been all along. He'd been feeding Baras reports and information since Balmorra, and he lured her to a ship to get the fake transponder from it so they could go to Corellia, and he locked her into an empty bay and tried to kill her with specially programmed assassin droids.” 

When Lana turned back to Theron, she could see how pale and sick he looked. But this time, she didn't make him ask for more information. She just pushed onward, clearly determined to have the whole story out for the sake of her troubled friend. “He failed, obviously. And she chose not to kill him despite what he'd done.. perhaps because she loved him. But other than hearing this from Vette, I've never heard her speak about any of this herself, and she barely says his name at all. And to me, that seems like the actions of someone who is still in a lot of pain.

“I don't think you did anything wrong, Theron. Not really. But I think she may associate love with betrayal.. at least a little bit. The only person she's ever loved was informing on her to her enemy, and tried to murder her. For that matter, Baras also tried to murder her, and about half the people she's met have tried to murder her,” she finished dryly. “After all, it is the Sith way.”

“Why does she get along so well with Arcann, then?” Theron asked, a trifle bitterly. “Those two are already as thick as thieves, and he stuck a lightsaber right through her and nearly poisoned her in carbonite!”

“She doesn't love him, and she'd been trying to kill him too. I suppose it just doesn't feel the same as opening yourself up to someone emotionally, trusting them, loving them, marrying them.. and then having them betray and try to murder you. Vette said she'd never seen anyone beaten as severely as Quinn was after that incident, and once she knew what he'd done, she was amazed that he'd even survived. She said it was the only time she was really a little afraid of the Commander, because she'd clearly just beaten every possible inch of him into a pulp but deliberately kept him alive; instead of just killing him the way she usually does with enemies.”

“So, what, she thinks I'm going to try to kill her now? She has to know I'd never do that! I'd never even want to hurt her in any way.”

“Of course not, Theron. Don't be ridiculous. I don't imagine she thinks about it at all in any kind of rational sense. It probably just was a shock, and maybe by the time she comes back, she will be ready to return the sentiment.”

Theron was looking at Lana as she finished speaking, and he caught the skeptical look that crossed her face. 

“You don't think she will, though, Lana. Be honest.”

Lana sighed, and shook her head. “No. I think it won't be that simple for you, or her. But you need to speak to Selirah about this as soon as possible.”

Deep down, Theron knew that Lana was probably right. And after everything had been going so well, too.


	2. Captive Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiding from her responsibilities on Zakuul doesn't quite work out the way she wanted it to, but.. it doesn't end -badly- either. Selirah has a little talk with Arcann, and a little more than a talk with Theron. Indo Zal's presence is felt, but not seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really not how I meant for this chapter to go, at all. But this is what came out, so I'm not going to look a gift chapter in the ... text. It also got sort of smutty, but that happens around Theron. Maybe the next chapter will actually listen to my plans.
> 
> Ha. Right.

Wrapping up the initial affairs on Zakuul took several days, and while she was grateful for the respite, Selirah knew that she was only postponing the inevitable. Theron would want to talk to her when she returned to Odessen, and that discussion – on top of Indo Zal's effusive and detailed plans for a coronation party, and the realities of integrating Zakuulan society with the Alliance forces, and the security briefings about rumblings from the Sith Empire and Republic – felt very overwhelming.

On top of it all, there were the nightmares. Every night, since taking the throne, she'd been woken from her sleep by a deep, pervading sense of dread and pain. She'd had a medic droid examine her, made sure it wasn't the scar she wore from the Asylum fight with Arcann, changed her diet.. nothing worked. It wasn't Valkorian's influence lingering, or anything related to him as far as she could tell. But something was wrong.

She spent the morning in practice combat bouts with both Arcann and Senya, sparring against them and learning more about Zakuulan methods. And for a few hours, all of the weight of the galaxy was off her shoulders, and she could just focus on the simple pleasure of wielding her lightsaber. Senya deserted them eventually to deal with the Knights who had surrendered, but Arcann chose to remain behind with Selirah. 

The rooftop garden they had chosen for their spar was damaged, as they all had been by the Eternal Fleet's barrage of the planet. But it was still beautiful, and once they were both tired of chasing each other around and over the flowerbeds, the current Empress and the former Emperor decided to just walk the paths and cool down. 

“We make better allies than rivals, I think,” Arcann observed, his gravelly voice carrying easily even over the sounds of construction and repair that seemed to be everywhere along with the droids scurrying around on their tasks. “Though I'm not sure what you want from me.”

“I'd be lying if I didn't admit to a hope that you will be willing to aid me in the transition. We're treading new paths here, and I will need your insights and understanding of your people so that we can make it as smooth as possible.”

He glanced at her as they paced through the garden, his pale blue eyes grave. “I am willing to lend you whatever assistance that I can, Empress...”

“No.”

“No?” Arcann looked puzzled, the expression making the scars tug at the corner of his left eye, and she forgot what she had been saying for a moment, looking him over slowly as if she had never seen him before. 

And perhaps she hadn't. Before, he'd always been a target, someone to kill. Someone in her way. An impediment to the throne that she deserved to hold. Oh.. that's right. The throne. He'd called her Empress.

“Don't call me that. Not unless it's a public situation and it's necessary. You and I, we've been as close as two people can be, haven't we, Arcann? Lightsabers right through our bodies. Yours through mine, and mine through yours. There shouldn't be any formality between us. I am Selirah, or Seli.” She could see the confusion ripple over his face as he tried to read her expression through the black tattoos that marked her red skin, could feel it if she opened herself slightly to the force. So she smiled, trying to make the words friendlier with her expression, and he responded, a more relaxed half-smile touching his lips in return.

“Selirah, then. I am certainly happy to help, in any way that I can. But you know that I will be mistrusted by many... that my own people as well as yours despise what our family did to them, and rightfully so. It will be a long time before I can be openly seen to advise you in any way.”

“I know. But.. I want you to know that I understand to a degree what you are feeling. I was your father's Wrath, and my hands are hardly clean, Arcann. You and I, we are not so very different, in a lot of ways. The Republic troops in the Alliance had ample reason to mistrust me, and we had to learn to work together and trust each other over time.” She activated her lightsaber, the familiar hiss of ignition soothing, as always. “You're not alone in learning a new way.” 

Arcann's gold-bladed saber lit a moment later, and when she turned fluidly to attack him with no further warning, he met her blade easily. “I'm not? Alone?” he questioned, his deep voice sounding amused, and intrigued.

“No. But you have a lot to learn when it comes to -my- way, princeling, so defend yourself.”

Selirah drove into him aggressively, driving him back step by step, forcing him to give ground to her until he dove past her. Circling her, his saber moving in tight, precise swings, Arcann turned her slowly and deliberately until the sun was in her eyes. She laughed at his cleverness, and then ruined his hard work by suddenly force shoving him with her free hand, flinging him back and over a large flower planter. Landing solidly on his back with a grunt, Arcann found himself grinning in return when she landed with her booted feet on either side of his hips, standing over him with her dark purple blade hissing beneath his chin. 

That was, of course, the precise moment that someone cleared his throat pointedly. “If you two are done playing around, perhaps I could have a moment of your time, Seli?”

Lekku tips twitching uncomfortably, Selirah stepped away from Arcann, offering him a hand to help him to his feet before she turned to face Theron. He was standing a few feet away, leaning against a column, hazel eyes intent. “Practice time is over, I suppose. Thank you for the workout, Arcann. Come find me tomorrow, we'll work on that hold break that you were showing me earlier.”

Arcann's gaze moved thoughtfully between the two of them, and he wisely chose to leave them to their conversation, excusing himself and heading inside to rejoin Senya.

“I hope Indo didn't send you here after me, Theron,” Selirah said quickly, deactivating her saber and hanging it on her belt. She shot him a smile, seeing the solemn look on his face falter just a bit in response to the mischief in her eyes. “He's been chasing me around this place with fabric samples for days, and I'm nearly out of both hiding places and patience.”

“I -did- see him on the way here, as it happens, and he gave me this to show to you.” Theron lost the serious face entirely in favor of a cheeky smirk as he held up a swatch of gold-shot purple silk.. and then another of ivory silk. Selirah laughed, one arm wrapped around her middle and her amethyst eyes rolling with amusement. “But that's not actually why I'm here... although we should probably head to the other end of the garden and see if that will throw him off for a few more minutes.”

“I have a better idea.” Tucking her gloved hand into his, Selirah led Theron back the way he'd come up to the garden, ducking down a side corridor and through a maintenance hall, and then into a servant's entrance that led to a massive set of rooms. Judging from the familiar sets of armor hanging on the racks near the wall, it was her room, a fact she clarified hastily as she keyed the lock on the door. “He has to knock to come into my room, and it's the only place I can keep him out of with any amount of certainty.” 

Theron laughed at her disgruntled tone. “The big, mean Sith is afraid of the party planner?” he mocked playfully, and she scowled in response, giving him a sour glance. 

“You would be too, if he had you trying on a bunch of ridiculous crowns that pinched your lekku. I don't even want to wear a -dress- to this thing. Or go to it at all.”

“You could always go naked, that'd -definitely- cause a stir,” he answered thoughtfully, and he was still laughing when she tackled him onto the bed. “What? It'd be really memorable, and he said that's what he wants!”

“I'm more interested in what I want right now, Theron.”

“More fabric choices? Security briefings? Meetings about potential uprisings? Me?”

“You.”

She stripped off her gloves, her eyes heating up as she looked at him stretched out beneath her. Fingers sliding under his shirt, she ran her hands over his stomach, dragging her nails down over his skin slowly. The rest of her armor (and his clothing) followed the gloves in short order, and Theron rolled her onto her back, pinning her down with his hips. 

Closing her eyes, Selirah let him explore her body, his hands sliding up her sides, pushing her arms over her head. One hand pinned her wrists together, and Theron bent his head to run his tongue over the lines of the tattoos marking her chest and stomach, the sinuous, stark markings inky black against her bright red Twi'lek skin. Her body was lean but strong, muscles prominent beneath the sleek skin under his lips, and he took his time enjoying the sweet, slightly spicy taste of her on his tongue when he released her arms so he could move down below the flat plane of her stomach to the delicate cleft between her thighs. 

Arching her back, body bowing tautly in arousal, Selirah gasped aloud, one hand dropping down to twine her fingers into Theron's short brown hair. Her hips lifted invitingly, each brush of his tongue sending a jolt of undeniable desire through her. But she only tolerated the play for a few minutes before tugging imperiously on his hair, leading him back up the length of her body, and Theron seemed perfectly ready to settle between her thighs, guiding himself into her with one hand. The other hand rested on the bed, balancing him above her, and she watched his muscles tense and shift under his skin, finding him as beautiful now as he had been when they'd first met on Manaan.

He slid into her with exquisite, teasing slowness, forcing a shuddering groan of frustration from her lips, and Selirah grasped his hips with both hands, trying to make him move more quickly and assuage the urgent desire that had built up over their days apart. Theron laughed, and took her wrists in his hand again, pinning them over her head, holding her still. Then he went back to the slow, lazy thrusts, gliding inside her as she twined her legs around his hips, arching up to meet him. 

Eyes half-closed, Seli opened herself to the force, letting herself feel him on more than just the physical plane. His emotions and the strength of his need and pleasure washed over her in swamping, powerful waves, and she quivered against him, his languid strokes building the pleasure to an unbearable swell within her. 

“Look at me, Selirah,” Theron ordered, and startled, she opened her eyes, gazing up into his. “I love you. You don't have to love me back, and you don't have to say it even if you do. But I want you to hear me and know that I mean it. I. Love. You.”

He could see the retreat in her eyes, the attempt to distance herself from what he was saying, even though they were so intimately entwined right now that it should have been impossible. His hand tightened on her wrists, squeezing to the point of pain, and her eyes sharpened, a glitter of anger showing in them. It was a risk, but one that Theron was willing to take to make this point to her now, while she couldn't easily escape him again and run away from his feelings for her.

“I hear you,” she snarled finally, admitting defeat if only to make him move faster, stars damn him. “But I am finished with letting you decide everything, and I do not like you holding something over me at a time like this, Theron.” 

He felt a twinge of shame for his actions, but couldn't make himself apologize when he wasn't really sorry that he'd done it. So when she turned her head and bit his arm sharply, Theron obeyed the unspoken demand and gave her what she wanted, his hips moving roughly against hers, thrusting his cock into her violently over and over until they both were lost to the pleasure, gasping together as they came. 

Theron lost his grip on her wrists, and buried his face in the side of her throat, his lips pressed against her skin, forehead touching the sleek curve of her tchun. He groaned softly, eyes closed, and felt tension he hadn't realized he was holding start to ease when her arms finally slid around him, fingertips gliding gently up and down his spine. Still entwined lazily minutes later, both of them drifted off to sleep, and Selirah's last coherent thought was that maybe everything was going to work out after all.


	3. Past Presence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unsettling memory leads to backlash. Selirah finds herself confiding in the wrong person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About half of it went where I'd intended for it to go. I think I'm resigned to just letting this one do whatever it wants. *flop*

“ _Baras is my true master..”_

  _The blood pounded in Selirah's head like a drum, drowning out the rest of Quinn's words. None of them mattered, anyway. There could be no mitigation of the truth, no explanation that eased this betrayal, and she had no desire to listen to any further words from his mouth anyway. The mouth that had awoken her a few hours ago with the sweetest of kisses. The mouth that had spoken to her of feelings, emotions, passion, trust, and love. The mouth that had lied again and again to her. He had betrayed her, deceived her, with every word from that mouth since the very first moment they had met; a meeting wholly orchestrated by her former Master, Baras._

  _Rage rose like a wave, threatening to wrest control away from her, and so she opened herself completely to the emotion and accepted it, taking it in, letting it fill her and spill from her so that she could use it. This was not the first betrayal that she had faced. Far from it, as an alien begrudgingly accepted into the ranks of the Sith because of her undeniable power in the Force. No, she had received few enough kindnesses in her life thus far, and she knew that Twi'leks were generally viewed as lesser beings by the elite of the Empire._

  _But this was indescribable. It was -Quinn-. The very thought of it brought another hot blast of fury to the forefront of Selirah's mind, and as she lit her saber, the sleek grip providing a familiar weight in her hand, she let the flush of anger wash over her. And then, for the next several minutes, she had no more thoughts at all while she was lost to battlelust, a mad red haze obscuring everything._

 

* * * *

 

Something was wrong.

 

No, screw that. Something was very, very wrong.

 

It took a moment for Theron to realize where he was, and then it hit him very quickly that he couldn't breathe. His hands came up, automatically reaching for his throat, but he felt nothing, no assassin's hands around his neck, nothing that could explain it except... Selirah. His eyes opened, trying to focus through the light-headed, air-starved pounding inside his head, and in the dim light from the room's wall sconces, he saw her facing him in the bed, her eyes closed but a dull red glow emanating from beneath her eyelids. Her hand was half-closed, and shut a fraction more as he watched in horror, restricting his air even more.

 

“Selirah!” he tried to shout, but it came out in a croak, barely enough to stir her, so instead he just kicked her in the leg, a solid blow that made her jerk back in her sleep.

 

She surged upright in the bed, a snarl curling her lip, and her hand lashed out, hitting him in the chest with the force behind it and with enough strength to hurl him through the air. Theron had just enough time to be grateful that striking him had entailed letting him breathe again, at least, before he hit the wall and slid down it to the floor in a boneless heap. He saw her reaching for a saber that thankfully was instead still tangled among their discarded clothing on the other side of the bed, and then her eyes snapped open, still glowing that furious red-orange.

 

She blinked a few times, and the light dulled, her eyes returning to their normal color as she came back to full wakefulness. Theron saw the look on her face change from one of nearly animal rage to panic, and she met his eyes, a horrified expression filling the deep lavender of her eyes. “Theron... stars, I'm so sorry.. I.. “

 

“You were dreaming.” He managed a bit more volume this time, his throat burning from the pressure and a headache starting behind his eyes from the high speed contact with the solid wall behind him. “More of a nightmare, I guess. Mind if I ask who you were attacking? Because I really need to hear that it wasn't me, for obvious reasons.” He tried to inject a little levity into the situation, hoping to erase that look of horror from her face, but she just blinked at him in silence, looking even more sickened.

 

“It.. it was just in the past, something from the past,” Selirah began, stumbling over the words in a way he'd almost never heard from her. She seemed shaken, her red skin carrying an unhealthy tinge, as if she was moments away from throwing up.

 

Theron considered getting up, but shifting his weight brought the headache rushing to the forefront, so he stayed where he was. “Can you tell me more than that?”

 

“Someone tried to kill me, once. Well, not -just- once, obviously.. lots of times. But this was someone I trusted. I didn't expect it. And he turned on me.” Selirah's hand slid over the bedsheets, her fingers searching for something, and then she abruptly got up, walking naked over to their discarded clothing. She pulled on a soft, stretchy shirt that she often wore beneath her armor, and a pair of underwear, then picked up her lightsaber, pacing back and forth, holding the familiar weight of the hilt in her hand. “I'm sorry, Theron. I didn't know it was you. I thought it was..”

 

He thought about filling in the blank, but he knew that Lana would not thank him in the least for turning Selirah's attention on her for telling him about Quinn. So he got to his feet, very slowly, and gingerly sat down on the bed, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

 

“I'll ask Senya to help you,” she said, and his heart clenched painfully at the apologetic way she looked at him. “It will be more pleasant than if I tried to heal you. And I think I've already done enough. I'm sorry, Theron.”

 

She was out the door before he could say anything else, and the headache was bad enough that he just laid down and waited for Senya, though he did manage to wrap the sheets around himself first so at least the former Knight wouldn't get a surprise view when she arrived.

 

* * *

 

Once she had found Senya and sent her to Theron, Selirah leaned against the wall in the darkened hallway, her breathing ragged. Something tugged at her senses, and she straightened slowly, her bare feet making no sound on the elegant floors. The feeling drew her onwards, down the opposite hall, pulling her towards a familiar presence.

 

She found herself standing before another door, but before she could work up the courage to knock on it, it opened to reveal Arcann's broad-shouldered form, clad in a soft white shirt and loose pants. His feet were bare, and he looked at her with his pale blue eyes for a long moment, taking in her attire and the look on her face before he drew back, moving so she could enter the room.

 

He didn't speak at first, letting her explore his room. It was similar to her own, if not quite on so grand a scale, and painstakingly neat (-unlike- her own) with everything in order and arranged to a nearly obsessive level. She circled it slowly, though she didn't touch any of his belongings, and finally sat down on the couch, tucking her bare feet beneath herself.

 

“What happened?” The bass rumble of his voice was curious, and surprisingly gentle. Selirah stared down at her hands, frowning at the sight of them, picturing the look on Theron's face when she'd flung him across the room in her rage, seeing Quinn's traitorous face instead of his.

 

“I attacked Theron. I had a dream.. a nightmare, about someone from my past, and I didn't realize what I was doing until I threw Theron against the wall. I don't know what happened. I was so angry, and I thought.. I thought I was back there, on that ship...”

 

Interrupting calmly as she started to look distressed, Arcann asked, “Is Theron alright?”

 

“I.. yes. I had your mother check on him, but I think he's going to be fine.”

 

“Did he know you were dreaming?”

 

“Yes. He knew right away. More than I can say about myself.. I was completely consumed by the dream.”

 

“Then I'm sure he doesn't blame you, Selirah. It was an accident, a bad dream. You didn't know where you were, or who was next to you. You didn't intend to hurt Theron, and you would never intentionally hurt him. Anyone can see that about you. Even me.” That last was added in a wry, amused tone, and he shook his head, settling on the couch a short distance away and resting one arm along the narrow, ornate back.

 

Feeling slightly off-balanced and aggravated by this circuitous conversational tactic, Selirah scowled at him. “Of course I didn't intend to hurt him. That's hardly the point, Arcann. I -did- hurt him.”

 

“And so you will go to him, and talk about what you were dreaming, and then the trouble will be out in the open and able to be purged from your thoughts,” he continued with relentless, obnoxiously sensible logic.

 

Selirah glared at Arcann sourly, but after a moment, she made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Fine. You're right. I should have talked to him about it earlier. Have I told you lately how annoying you've gotten? I liked you better when you were always throwing me against walls and trying to murder me. Can't we just go back to that? It was so much easier to tolerate.”

 

His laugh was surprising, rumbling and deep-throated, a full-body effort that made his shoulders shake and his eyes squeeze mostly closed, and Selirah's indignation deflated in response to the charmingly unguarded image he presented. She even joined in after a moment, relaxing against the couch more comfortably instead of sitting stiffly. She could feel his amusement, and more, emanating from him in overlapping waves. Sifting through the emotions, she examined them.

 

“Have you told anyone that you've been sleeping poorly as well?” Selirah asked suddenly. “I can feel your exhaustion, and I can tell that you are troubled.”

 

“No. What good would it do? The things I've done are unforgivable. And it tears at my thoughts now, realizing the horrific damage that I wrought in my search for vengeance against you and my father. Thexan is dead, Vaylin was driven mad by Father's cruelty, my mother was nearly killed trying to save me, and those are just the things in my family that I had some hand in or directly caused. When I think of the people on the planets I bombarded, the Star Fortresses, the attacks on your worlds, the times I tried to kill you...” He made a helpless gesture with his cybernetic hand, the fingers closing into a loose fist.

 

“It is overwhelming.” Selirah finished for him, and Arcann's eyes met hers in surprise, his head inclining in a brief nod.

 

“Yes, exactly so. The way that people look at me.. I deserve it, I know that. But it feels impossible. Insurmountable to find a way past this to acceptance, much less any sort of redemption or atonement for the things I've done.”

 

“It will be the task of a lifetime, perhaps. I have my own resentments towards you for your actions, Arcann. But I see who you are now, too. Your strength is immense, and I would be a fool to not recognize it and value it by my side. Put that stubborn, impossibly persistent will of yours towards changing people's minds and I think you will find it more rewarding than it was chasing me all over the galaxy.”

 

“I'm not sure that's strictly true,” Arcann replied cryptically, then continued, “I could feel you too, you know.. your distress called out to me like an beacon and woke me, earlier. Your anger, your pain, your sadness.. I could feel you coming towards me.”

 

Selirah's expression changed and shuttered, and he could feel her withdraw, closing herself off deliberately. She rose to her feet, and gave him a smile that seemed forced, her jaw flexing tightly beneath her crimson skin. “It's just because my emotions were so strong then, and your mind was more receptive in your sleep. Nothing to concern yourself with, I'm sure. I should take my leave. Check on Theron, and get some sleep, as well as leaving you to your rest. Thank you for putting up with me tonight. Goodnight, Arcann.”

 

Her tone left no room for negotiation, and Arcann inclined his head in understanding, rising to see her to the door. But when the door was closed again, he could feel her presence there on the other side for several more moments before she moved away to return to her suite.

 


	4. Let Me Be Your Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Festival of the Eternal Alliance goes off without a hitch. Finally. Indo Zal is pleased with the results of his hard work. Theron and Lana see something that Selirah does not. There's dancing. And no roast gorak (Sorry Koth).

Indo Zal was frustrated.

He'd wanted to hold the Festival of the Eternal Alliance quickly, within days of the Outlander's showy victory and the neutralization of the attacking fleet. But she had proven.. difficult, stubborn, and intractable on the subject. 

“People were killed in the attack, Indo. Families displaced. Entire sections of the cities reduced to near rubble. We have work to do first, before I will commit to any celebration. Once we have repairs under control and people have been aided, then we'll do it.”

He'd argued with her, pointed out that the celebration and coronation would give people a chance to meet her, to see who she was. That it would be an event that would aid her in her task of bringing Zakuul together with her Alliance. He'd argued right up until the point when she'd turned to face him and he'd seen a decidedly predatory gleam in her eyes that he fervently hoped he would never have the misfortune of seeing again. 

Before she'd even moved or spoken further, though, her ever-present companions Lana and Theron had stepped in, ushering him away and offering questions and ideas and thoughts on his plans and distracting him until he realized he was halfway down the hall and the door to Selirah's conference room was firmly closed behind him. 

It'd been over a month before she would even broach the subject with him again, and it'd been at least two weeks before he'd even been permitted back into the presence of the new Empress at all. She'd gone back to Odessen for a while, and all he was told was that she was busy dealing with the business of the Alliance and would return soon. 

It'd driven him crazy, and he'd been sure the Festival would never come together. It was all going to be a loss, a mess, an embarrassment!

But now, as he watched Selirah take her first step out onto the balcony, Indo let himself exhale for a moment and relax, because it was all just as he had pictured it in his mind. Her thankfully elegant frame (it -was- hard to tell what he had to work with when she so often refused to wear anything but her armor) was clad in a single-shoulder gold and black silk gown that clung to her curves faithfully, falling in sleek folds to the floor. The fabric itself was stunning, with a shimmering Zakuulan dragon design artfully suggested in the design of black threads shot through the gold silk, and she wore a Twi'lek style headband over the base of her lekku, the metal intricately carved with designs that incorporated the sigil of the Alliance. He'd even (barely) managed to convince her to let him have her attendants massage a delicately scented oil into her skin that had a faint shimmer of gold to it.

He let her stand there alone on the balcony for a few moments in the view of the masses of people below, their applause filling the air, then he stepped forward to announce her.

* * * * *

Selirah stood impatiently in her finery, gazing down at the gathered Zakuulan society mixed with her own Alliance soldiers, commanders, and refugees from both the Republic and Empire, and tried to force herself to relax. This night was not her choice, but she knew that Indo was right about the importance of holding the party. It was a necessity, and it had been postponed for as long as was possible. Repairs were going well, assistance had been given to the displaced, injured, and suffering, and she had begun to settle into her new role.

It was restrictive, however beautiful the cage might be that surrounded her. She hadn't given much thought to what it would be like to actually rule. There was no time to consider being 'finished' with her tasks, after all. Every time she defeated one barrier, another had been thrown in front of her to block her from the throne again. And now, it turned out that the same would be true of ruling, with both the Republic and the Empire preparing again for war.

Closing her eyes briefly, Selirah reached out with the force, letting herself feel the way it eddied and circled around the room, and the way it touched every person there in some way or another. She could feel Lana on the level below, dancing with a Zabrak Inquisitor, and Senya (who had managed to avoid the trap of formal attire by volunteering for guard detail, clever woman) close by. Then she felt the bright flame of Arcann's approach, his presence in the force like a fire to her senses. 

Her fingers tightened briefly on the railing of the balcony, and she took a deep breath before turning around. Arcann was dressed in his signature white, with grey accents, though the clothing had a more formal cut and was quite flattering. Selirah took her time looking.. this Empress job had to have -some- perks, after all.. and smiled at him, holding out a hand for him to take.

“You look very handsome. I'm quite sure you are more used to this kind of society than I am, at the least, because you don't look out of place at all, and I feel like a bantha in a dress,” she observed wryly as he took her right hand with his cybernetic left hand, holding it lightly and lifting it to his lips. His mouth brushed the knuckles of her hand, and Selirah's eyes widened slightly at the gesture as she slowly took a settling breath.

“I have seen holos of banthas, and I can't say that I see any resemblance at all. You look beautiful, and regal. Indo must be greatly pleased with himself.” Arcann's smile was small, but genuine, and Selirah laughed in response.

“He's going to be insufferable for months after this, I'm sure. But he has certainly outdone himself, so it's well-deserved.” 

“Will you save me a dance..” “Would you like to dance, Seli..” Both invitations came at nearly the same second, and it took Selirah a moment to realize that Theron had joined them on the balcony as well. At about the same time, she realized her hand was still in Arcann's, and she carefully drew it free. 

In contrast to Arcann's pale attire, Theron wore black, with a deep green formal shirt that brought out the hazel in his eyes, and Selirah made an appreciative noise in her throat, glancing from one to the other. “Perhaps this job won't be too terrible after all, if I get to be surrounded by such incredibly handsome men. Arcann, I absolutely will save you a dance. Come and find me later. Theron.. I'm all yours.” Tucking her hand into Theron's, Selirah let him lead her back into the hall leading to the staircase down, studiously ignoring the brief rush of emotion that she felt as she walked past Arcann. 

When they stepped out on the floor, people drew back to give them space, and the holocameras hovered, recording every moment. Selirah felt like she should feel annoyed, or pressured by all of the attention, but it was difficult to be anything but pleased with Theron's hand at the small of her back, the other held in hers. He led her smoothly into the steps, and she smiled at him bemusedly, shaking her head, her lekku brushing across the back of his hand. 

“Spy craft, it has to be,” she stated teasingly. “The dancing. I can't imagine you learning it at a Jedi temple, though there isn't much about you that I can see you learning at a Jedi temple, when I really think about it.”

Theron grinned at her, pulling her closer to him. Neither of them even glanced the people around them at this point, and the cameras might as well have been invisible. “Of course it's a spy skill. You never know what kind of situation you're going to find yourself in, so best to be prepared for everything. I have vast, untapped networks of skills that you haven't even seen yet.” 

“I am taking that as a challenge.”

“I'd rather hoped that you would.”

When the song finished, she was swept away by one of Indo's rebel friends, and then Koth claimed her for the next dance. Vette wisely partnered with Theron after that, and brought him close enough to cut in on an ambassador who was beginning to get on Selirah's nerves rather obviously with his clumsiness. In Theron's highly competent hands again, her mood lifted quickly, and after that song, she was handed off to one of Sana-Rae's students. 

The evening wore on, and though she often saw Arcann along the edges of the people just outside the dance floor and could always sense where he was if she wished to reach out and find him, she only saw him take to it once, with Senya as his partner, armor and all. She could see the ripples of conversation and the frowns that followed him anywhere he went, and was sure he knew as well that people were talking about him. Making up her mind to seek him out as the song began to change, she turned to look for him only to find him coming towards her for the same purpose. 

His hand took hers with certainty, and Arcann led her out onto the floor. But his pain and shame from the gossip that had followed him all evening was evident to her even without the force, and she stepped into his arms smoothly, leaning in to whisper in his scarred ear. “Let them talk. And let's give them something to talk about.” She could feel him straighten at her words, pride and a grateful warmth flooding his emotions. 

“Be careful what you ask for.” He replied, his bass rumble tinged with amusement. “If I stepped on your dress by accident, they'd still have something to talk about. But it might not be quite what you're thinking.”

She laughed aloud, the sound ringing above the music and drawing eyes. Theron's gaze was thoughtful as it rested on the pair out on the floor, and Selirah saw Lana invite him to dance again and draw him out onto the floor, pulling his attention away for at least a moment.

“If you stepped on my dress, I don't think it'd be by accident.. I -am- dancing with you right now and it's clear you're not clumsy.”

“Guilty as charged. But at least people would be talking about that, and not me.”

Selirah met his eyes, her clear amethyst gaze fixing on his pale blue. “They need time. Everyone will need time. You will prove yourself to them, and the whispers will stop.” She paused, then added lightly, “Or I will pass a law forbidding it, if you'd like. Just say the word.”

Arcann gave her a reluctant smile at that last, shaking his head at her. “Why are you willing to help me? I did terrible things to you, to your Alliance, to my people, my family.” 

Reflexively, she reached out to him through the force, letting her own confidence wash over him, mesh with him. His eyes widened briefly in surprise, but he gave no resistance and instead his power met hers, like two hands meeting, fingers twining. The two of them moved through the steps of the dance smoothly while the force washed around and through them, guiding them through the throng of partygoers. “You said that I reminded you of Thexan, in your letter to me. You said you weren't alone, because you had me. I feel alone sometimes too, you know. Perhaps we are meant to … work together. Support each other instead of pushing against each other. Will you try that, with me?”

“I will, Selirah. I would like that.”

“Good. Then we will be friends.”

“Yes... Friends. Of course.”

He looked at her intently, his eyes so similar to Senya's, but the expression in them was uniquely his own. Damaged, longing, and cautious, but somewhere deep inside, with a dawning sense of hope. The song changed, but neither of them stopped dancing or let go of each other, and no one seemed inclined to interrupt the pair but Indo Zal, who spoke out over the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, our Empress and Prince Arcann. A glittering example of the melding of our cultures into the Eternal Alliance!”

A short distance away, Lana and Theron stood watching the pair, moving fluidly together like a pair of hunting cats, gliding between the other dancing couples without effort. Lana could see the paired embrace of their power flowing between them, but she suspected that Theron did not need her sight to see the connection. 

“They look well together. It will do Arcann good to be seen as important to Selirah. It may ease some of the backlash he is suffering from those he's wronged, to some degree,” she offered by way of an explanation, and Theron nodded a little curtly in response. 

“Don't try to manage me, Lana. I'm a big boy, I'm not insecure, and I can handle the fact that things will be different now for her. But I'm not stupid, either. I'm going to go get some air.” 

He pulled away and left her on the edge of the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd, and Lana let him go, her golden eyes returning to the dancing couple. Neither of them seemed to notice Theron's exit, and Lana allowed herself one exasperated sigh before she went to join Senya and Vette across the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really tried to tighten this up and keep it rolling. I'm still not sure I'm in charge of where this is going, but I'm a little bit intrigued nevertheless.
> 
> Happy Holidays to one and all! Make snow Stormtroopers if you're in a part of the country that gets the white stuff!


	5. Intercession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major Pierce is sassy, Broonmark is quietly sassy. Selirah might be getting a clue. Theron has a lot of patience.

Major Pierce's bulky form stood to one side of the door to Selirah's room when Theron arrived there, and the immensely tall, shaggy, white form of the Talz that she called Broonmark stood on the other side. The forbidding aspect of the Talz was openly intimidating, if Theron was completely honest with himself. The way it.. or he, rather.. stared at everyone and loomed over them made it look as if he was contemplating how best to gut you, and the odds were fairly good that it was on his mind, given how violent the Talz could be. 

Pierce, on the other hand, was mostly a mystery to Theron. He hadn't gotten to know the man much, but the way he'd leaped at the chance to return to Selirah's service the moment he'd seen her had told him quite a bit about the level of loyalty that she had inspired in her long-time retainers. Pierce was former Black Ops, and Theron knew all about his military record, which was impressive and punctuated with quite a few reprimands for conduct right up until he'd joined Selirah's crew. Then the reprimands had ceased, and his accomplishments had skyrocketed.

The Major gave him an amused look, his heavily muscled arms crossed comfortably across his broad chest. “You're in luck,” he commented, his coarse accent setting him apart from the speech patterns of the Sith and most higher ranked officials of the Empire. 

“And why is that?”

“M'lord says you're to be admitted. Only you.” Pierce cast a curious glance over Theron, still in his party clothes, and chuckled. “She does have some odd taste at times, if you don't mind me saying. That stick in the mud Quinn was strange enough, and I didn't think she'd be able to top that. But then she brings home a Republic SIS agent with some.. interesting parentage. I told 'er back then on Yavin that it'd never last. But 'ere you are, and you seem alright.”

Theron arched a brow, a grin crossing his face at the faint praise. “Thanks. I think. Wait... have you had to turn anyone away tonight?” he asked, suddenly curious about the level of guard tonight versus a normal night when a pair of the reprogrammed Skytroopers would have been stationed there.

“Indo was by earlier to crow about the party, but m'lord told me to keep him out in particular.” Pierce paused for a bit longer than was strictly necessary, a sly look in his deep-set eyes. “But I don't think -that's- the one you're curious about, is it?” 

It was a close thing, but Theron managed not to let his irritation show at the other man's needling. “It was just a question. No need to read more into it than there is.” 

“Well then, I guess you'll probably want to go on inside, eh? I shouldn't be holding you up...”

Theron sighed and relented, knowing it would bother him all night if he didn't ask, and that Selirah was unlikely to volunteer the information on her own. “Was Arcann here?”

Major Pierce let out a bark of a laugh, and clapped Theron on the shoulder. It felt a little bit like being slapped by a wampa, and Theron staggered before he could catch his balance again. The Talz hooted in amusement too, adding insult to injury. “There you are, I knew you were a clever one. He left her off here, just walked 'er to the door.” He paused, a brief moment of seriousness coming across his rough features. “M'lord is still a Sith, Shan. They aren't like the rest of us. I'd have thought you'd know that quite well by now.” Pierce keyed the door open, letting Theron enter, but he could still hear both of them out there chuckling as the door closed.

Selirah was lying indolently on the bed, her only covering a corner of the sheet draped lightly across her hips. Stretched out on her stomach, she was perusing four datapads, flicking through information on each one in turn, her purple eyes shifting from screen to screen. She didn't look up when he came in, her lekku draped down over her back, the black tattoos stark against her dark red skin. 

“You're not working, are you? This was supposed to be a celebratory evening, and it's usually -my- job to be the one who can't put their tasks aside even for fun,” Theron observed, settling on the foot of the bed. He slid off his boots, then his belt and jacket, joining her on the bed in just his shirt and pants. 

His fingers reached for one of the datapads, and Selirah swatted his hand without lifting her eyes from her work, the smack of force energy feeling just like a hand shoving him away from the device. “Don't even think about it, Theron. I'm doing your job so you can't claim you have reports to catch up on tonight, and I'm almost finished.” She glanced at him sidelong, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “I hope Pierce was not difficult. I told him to let you in without comment.”

“I wouldn't say it was without comment,” Theron replied, smirking. He eyed the datapads, but wisely didn't reach for them again, instead choosing to touch her. His fingers glided over her lekku, lifting the one closest to him and shifting it gently to the side so he could touch her back more easily. Her eyes closed briefly in pleasure, and she sighed, turning off three of the datapads and setting them on the table as his fingers slid down over her spine, caressing the sharp lines of her tattoos.

“He told you about Arcann walking me to the door.” It wasn't a question, and she didn't look at him when she said it, calmly finishing the reports on the last datapad. “He enjoys being provoking, always has. I hope that you didn't give him the satisfaction of reacting to his jabs.” 

Theron's hand paused on the curve of her hip, then continued over her thigh, tracing the musculature evident beneath her skin. She had scars, plenty of them, but they were difficult to see amid the black lines of her tattoos, acquired over her years among the Sith. The only baldly visible one was the round scar through her body from Arcann's lightsaber that day at Asylum. Not all of the Sith indulged in the decorations, but Selirah had added marks for each triumph, each enemy vanquished, and as he looked at the swirling and jagged lines marking her face, lekku, and torso, the tattoos ending at her hips, he could see a map of the fight for life that she had faced from childhood. “I'm sure he felt he received the response he wanted,” he answered carefully, keeping his tone uncritical. “Was it purely political, choosing to uplift Arcann by your side in that way?” 

She stretched luxuriously beneath his hand, unconcerned by her nudity or his response to it, which was evident even though he was more clothed. Rolling onto her side, she discarded the last datapad after sending a final message, adding it to the stack on the bedside table and facing Theron. “It was a wise thing to do, and it will help him as well, which does not hurt my ascent. But that is not what you really want to ask, Theron. You may as well do it, if you feel it is necessary.”

“I don't know what to ask, even if I did want to do it, Seli. You seem to get along well with him, and he is .. easier with you than he is with most of us. I know that you share an understanding with him that perhaps the rest of us lack.”

“He intrigues me, and I intrigue him. We have much in common, including the unenviable position of having been the targets of his father's plans. And we are trying to learn to be friends with each other. But he is not you, Theron.” 

She sat up in bed, the sheet dropping away, and Theron's mouth went dry, though he was not foolish enough to fail to realize that was her intention. She wanted to distract him, and he felt that this would be a stupid time to let her do it, no matter how much he wanted to give her what she wanted. 

“Does it matter that he's not me? Everyone in the Alliance loves to remind me that you are still Sith, with a Sith's appetites. Should I not expect you to indulge in your passions?”

Selirah gave him an exasperated look, but leaned back against the pillows, settling there comfortably, long legs crossed at the ankles. She still hadn't bothered to cover up, and Theron found it difficult to keep his attention at full capacity while looking at her enticing naked skin. The chance of receiving -some- kind of hope that his feelings for her were returned was a powerful inducement though, and he moved his gaze to her face and kept it there through great force of will. The thought crossed his mind that he certainly deserved a medal for this.

She sighed, the passage of her breath providing a delightful view of her breasts lifting and falling with the motion, but when he kept his eyes resolutely on her face, the Twi'lek finally relented. “Of course it matters that he's not you. I don't know what you want me to say...” She made a face at his audible snort. “Yes, fine, that wasn't true. I do know what you want me to say, but you must let me come to it on my own, Theron. Please.”

She pulled him closer, twining her arms around his neck and touching his lips with hers in the lightest of kisses. Theron groaned, giving up on his plan to remain aloof until they had talked, and his hands slid up her sides, cupping her breasts. She wrapped a leg around his hip, arching herself against him teasingly, and the tattered remains of his unease about Arcann drifted into ash and gone. He was the one here, in her bed.. it had always been him. And there was no reason to assume that would change. 

He could wait for the words. Tonight was for celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left out the smut even though it was demanding to be heard. I promise to listen to it next time it shows its face, though.


	6. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah discovers that running an empire is a lot of work, and jumps at the chance to do something more fun. It turns out a little differently than she had planned. Arcann discovers that he might just have a bit of a problem. Senya discovers both Selirah and Arcann's problems, but is Senya-ish and doesn't share with the class. All with the sandy backdrop of Darvannis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stayed up till 5 am finishing this because it was gnawing at me so badly. Now I'm going to sleep and hope that when I get up tomorrow, it still looks like I edited it.

In the weeks following the coronation party, Selirah found herself completely consumed by her work. The monumental task of taking the throne now looked like a very pleasurable time in her past when faced with the constant demands of running an empire, and the Republic and Sith Empire were growing more and more overt in their aggressions as well. Mostly towards each other, and she was content to stay out of those disagreements entirely. But there had been a few minor incursions into her territory by agents of both, and that necessitated a different response. 

The most recent, a small-scale attack on the factory at Darvannis, had failed because of the heavy defenses and the Mandalorian force that she kept stationed there in the anticipation of just such an attempt. But she had left Odessen and come to Darvannis because they had captured one of the saboteurs, and leaving the interrogation to anyone else was not an option. 

Descending from the shuttle, Selirah crossed the landing pad, her purposeful stride and the complement of Skytroopers trailing her more than enough to clear a path through the curious Mandalorians, most of whom had been present to see her destroying this very factory with their aid not long ago during her campaign to take the throne. Broonmark and Pierce preceded her, both of them heavily armed and in Major Pierce's case, extremely heavily armored.

Sweeping into the main building of the now-permanent encampment, Selirah paused only long enough to inform one of the clan leaders currently on rotation on planet that she would be speaking with the prisoner. The detention cells were down the next hallway, and she stopped before the energy field containing the man, looking him over.

Thin and dark-eyed, the human man in the cell could have been Republic or Sith Empire, or even Zakuulan. He had refused to speak to anyone yet, but she could feel the fear radiating off him in waves once he realized who was standing before him. 

“You seem to recognize me, so we won't dwell on that information,” Selirah began. “We will start with something very simple. And in the interest of not wasting my time, which I think we both can agree is valuable, I will refrain from the obvious threats of bodily harm and simply assume that you understand what I can do to you if you fail to give me the information I'm seeking. What is your name?”

“Derin Atesen.” 

The answer came quickly, and she could feel that while well-rehearsed, it was a lie. She smiled gently at him. “In the interest of preserving peace as long as possible, I will give you one more chance to work -with- me. Don't insult me by lying to me again. What is your name?”

“Jaer Sainel.”

“Much better. Now, let's talk about who you are working for. Whose objectives were you in pursuit of here on Darvannis?”

“I was working alone, Empress. I bear the weight of my failure alone as well.” 

His voice was firm, unwavering. But the lie was unmistakable to her, and she let the disappointment show on her face and in her voice. “Jaer, I thought we had established that lying to me was unwise and insulting? And yet, here you are, trying it again. Shall I pull the truth from your mind? It will not be pleasant for you in the least, I warn you. Or shall I make you tell me another way?”

“Empress, please, I beg of you! I am working alone. No one will rescue me. There is no one to come for me.”

“That much is true. They have abandoned you to me, on my planet, with my factories, and my forces. You have trespassed here, and you will tell me what I wish to know.”

_Selirah, isn't there another way?_

Koth's voice in her earpiece was joined a moment later by Senya's. _We need to know who is sending agents into our territories, Koth. Selirah is right to push for the truth._

She didn't respond to either comment, her focus fixed on the agent, Jaer. “Who sent you here?” Her expression hardened when his silence dragged on longer than she wished, and then she lifted him off his feet, one hand outstretched as she held him in midair, his throat grasped firmly by the force, but not yet tightly enough to throttle him. The man's legs kicked ineffectually, and tried to claw at his own throat with his bound hands, struggling in the intangible hold that suspended him.

His mouth moved, trying to get words out, and she released him contemptuously, letting him simply drop to the floor like a discarded marionette, strings abruptly cut. Gasping, Jaer rubbed his throat, even though there were no marks to be seen. “I work for a private group of .. concerned citizens,” he began, eyes flickering upwards to glance at Selirah's face, to see her reaction, clearly wary of provoking her again. “They wanted to test you, now, while you're new to the throne and presumably weak. I would be happy to tell them that there is no weakness to be found, Empress.”

“This group of concerned citizens is found on which world?” Selirah replied coldly, ignoring his final comment in a pointed way. 

“Empress, I...” He saw her fingers twitch, and his throat nearly seized up all by itself in his terror. “Corellia!” 

“Very good, Jaer Sainel. It's important to know where your enemies are coming from. Corellia.. hmm. No doubt they think if my factories are damaged, I will seek out contracts from their planet's facilities for weaponry and droids. They are mistaken.” 

“Are you going to let me go? I swear I will tell them exactly what you wish and no more.” He glanced up at her from the floor, a hopeful gleam in his dark eyes.

A heavily armored young Mandalorian skidded into the detention room and Selirah turned to face him, an obvious flash of temper in her expression making him back up a step or two before recalling his purpose in finding her. “There was another infiltrator, and we've cornered them in one of the manufacturing centers!”

“Excellent. Let's go.” 

Jaer watched the Twi'lek leave the room on the heels of the Mandalorian, her guards following her. He exhaled softly in relief, but knew that being forgotten at this moment wasn't likely to lead to any kind of freedom later. This mission had always been a one-way ticket.

The waiting shuttle dropped Selirah and her guards at the factory, and they entered quickly. Selirah expended a fraction of effort on shielding them all from the fiercely blowing Darvannis sand until they were inside, then she turned her connection with the force inward, sinking into battle awareness. She could feel the bloodlust of her Mandalorian allies, and she took it all in, turning it into strength. 

Her blade lit with a hiss, the dark purple glow flinging a lurid light in the hallways and noisy assembly line rooms. She could hear blaster fire ahead, and as they rounded a corner, she saw one of the Mandalorian warriors preparing to throw a stun grenade. Behind an overturned table, she could feel the intruder's fear and determination as he rose out of his protective crouch. 

Then she saw the detonator in his hand. Selirah hastily flung up a barrier to protect her people as the explosion rocked the factory, and for a second, she saw Major Pierce and Broonmark moving towards her in order to protect her, to come between her and the blastwave rushing towards them all. Then the explosion hit them like a fist, and they were all flung backwards violently. She lost her hold on the protective shield as she impacted with the wall with bone-jarring suddenness.

Everything went dark as the walls began to tumble in upon themselves, burying them all.

* * * * * * * *

Koth was underneath the Gravestone's sensor relay panel, fixing a stripped wire, and Senya and Arcann were running systems checks at the omnicannon and the bridge in preparation of Selirah's return and their departure back to Odessen. Suddenly, Arcann stopped what he was doing and paled, his gaze growing briefly distant. 

“Something's happened to Selirah. I need to go down there. Right now.”

“How do you... nevermind, I believe you.” Taking in how Arcann looked with a quick glance, Koth wasted no time in explanations. They found Senya and were in the smaller transport shuttle on the way down to the planet within minutes. 

The Mandalorians were already hard at work moving rubble and trying to find survivors with the aid of some of the droids from the factory. It was slow work, but the moment that the shuttle landed, Arcann and Senya joined the effort, moving the heavy transparisteel and panels with the force. They worked in shifts, Senya taking over when Arcann needed to rest. But she could not help but see that her son resented giving way to her and letting her take the lead for a while, even though he was clearly tiring. 

“We will find her. You know she is strong, Arcann,” she said to him after a few minutes of watching him pace while she moved more of the rubble. 

“I know, Mother. But the longer she is under all of this...” He waved a hand at the explosion site, the gesture sharp and his scarred face set in frustrated lines. “We have to work harder. I can feel her, very weakly, but it feels like we're not getting any closer.”

“You must calm yourself. She'll be..... Koth! Here, help.” Senya broke off, still holding a huge chunk of twisted metal in the air, pointing with the other hand at a pocket under the rubble where some armor was visible, and thick white hair. “Is that Broonmark? Be careful with him.” 

It took four of them to haul the injured Talz out, but he was alert enough to recognize them and at least didn't try to attack them. Major Pierce was next, and thanks to Broonmark having the presence of mind to wrap his big furry form around the soldier when the side of the building came down over them, he was less injured, though still in poor shape. His leg was broken in two places, and he would need time in a kolto tank for the other wounds he had suffered, but he was conscious. As soon as he was free of the rubble, Arcann immediately began moving debris again, flinging the pieces away harmlessly but quickly.

“I only saw m'lord for a moment before the explosion. Shielded us and several of the Mandalorians from the worst of the blast, but I don't know how badly she was hit. She was deeper into the room... you know how she is in battle, and we learned long ago not to try to get m'lord to hang back when there's fighting to be done.” Pierce coughed painfully, and Senya waved the medical shuttle staff over to take him. 

“We have to keep looking. Let them take care of you and Broonmark, Pierce. She'll want to know you were cared for when we find her,” Senya told him as she moved away to join her son. 

It took an interminable five minutes before they finally saw what looked like Selirah's Skytrooper complement, shattered to pieces around a small pocket of open space. Her shield had kept the worst of the debris from crushing her, but she was unconscious and badly injured. Arcann impatiently flung the last piece of rubble away and knelt beside her while Senya kept moving pieces of the building, hoping to find the last few warriors that had gotten caught in the explosion.

He lifted her bruised and bleeding body carefully in his arms, taking her to the medical shuttle himself. When Senya returned to the security facility an hour later with the last of the Mandalorian warriors' bodies found, she came to Selirah's room. Her son was there, sitting beside the Twi'lek's bed while the medics worked busily around him as if he was invisible to them.

“I've updated Lana and Theron on everything and gave them a thorough report on Selirah's condition. We should try to get her back to Odessen as soon as we can move her.. but they need to finish stabilizing her. Perhaps you should get some rest, Arcann. It will be a little while before we know how long we'll have to wait, and I know you're as exhausted as I am.”

Arcann lifted his gaze from Selirah to look at his mother, and Senya realized his hand was entwined firmly with hers. “She won't let go of my hand. I know she's unconscious, but.. she won't let go, so I'm going to stay here with her. She shouldn't be alone. I'll rest here,” he told her, his deep voice quiet, as if he was concerned about waking Selirah if he spoke too loudly. 

Opening her mouth to object, Senya looked into her son's face, his blue eyes that were so like hers, the worry evident in his voice and his expression, the stubborn refusal to leave Selirah alone, and the protest died instantly before she could even give voice to it. Her heart swelled painfully with affection for her once-wayward, troubled son.

“You're right, you should. It will be easier for her if she wakes up and she isn't alone,” Senya agreed mildly, pausing before she added, “Theron is coming here very soon in the Fury, I believe.” Arcann's jaw flexed briefly beneath his scars, but he only nodded in response, remaining silently focused on Selirah's still form.

When she checked in an hour later, he was fast asleep in his chair, and their hands were still locked together. Selirah had turned her face towards him in her sleep, and his chair was so close to her bed that there was no real space between the two. A crooked smile touched Senya's lips, and she shook her head ruefully, exiting the room and letting the pair rest.


	7. The Path Not Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Arcann both come to a partial realization (separately), and their bond deepens in the process. Theron struggles with the idea of downtime, and his personality comes under scrutiny unbeknownst to him. He tries to do the right thing, in the wrong way.

Pain woke her. 

It was a dull, insistent ache that felt like it was everywhere and nowhere at once, impossible to pin down as originating in one limb, or one place, and equally impossible to ignore. Selirah's eyes opened halfway, the light in the room too bright to bear for long, and so her lids closed again, and she took stock of her injuries. 

Flexing her feet and legs, she breathed in and out slowly, feeling the small stabs of pain from healing ribs. Then she moved her fingers, and felt something strange - a hand that wasn't her own, tucked gently into hers, fingers entwined with hers. Reaching out with the force, Selirah could feel the flame of Arcann's presence beside her, his emotions unguarded in his sleep and his strength touching her, bolstering her. Retreating from that brief touch and what she felt from him, she nevertheless kept her hand in his. It felt comforting, his touch; his skin against hers, the touch feeling slightly electric even with him asleep. So instead, she shifted a little in the bed, tightening her hand around his in a light squeeze. 

She could feel his sudden alertness as he woke, heard the rustle of his clothing as he sat up. His fingers stroked hers, caressing the palm of her hand and the length of her curled fingers, touching her in a way that she knew he would not have dared if she appeared awake. He bowed his head, and she felt the brief touch of his cheek against her fingers, as he rested his head there for a moment. 

“Arcann?” She spoke carefully, mindful of concealing the pain from her voice, even now unwilling to reveal any weakness. Opening her eyes again, just partway, the light excruciating to bear, she focused on him, watching his head lift sharply in surprise, his blue eyes meeting her gaze. His relief and the strength of his growing affection, still unguarded, hit her like a fist and she gasped aloud, closing herself off abruptly from him in self-defense, feeling as if she had been eavesdropping with a flush of unaccustomed guilt. 

“Are you in pain? I can get the medics,” he said hastily, starting to pull away, his fingers slipping from hers.

But she seized his hand firmly, her grip strong. “Don't leave. Please. I want you to stay.”

He settled back into his seat, and even without the connection that they seemed to share, she could see his pleasure in her words reflected in his eyes. “Of course. Everyone will be so relieved that you're awake. The medics said you needed to just rest and heal, but it was worrying to us all that you hadn't woken up yet.”

“You found me after the explosion. Got me out of there.”

“I... yes. I should have been with you, Selirah. Don't leave me behind again.” Arcann stopped, taking a breath, and then he continued, “I'll abide by your decisions, of course, but.. I hope you'll consider it in the future. Maybe both of us together could have shielded everyone.”

“Or maybe we both would be injured, or worse.” She should pull her hand free, create some physical distance between them, but his hand was so warm, and it fit with hers so well. It felt right, and she couldn't make herself sever the link of his touch against her skin the way she had pulled away from their deepening connection through the force. “You're right, though. It would have been wise to have you or Senya with me down here. And I am very grateful that you looked for me and found me. You saved my life, Arcann.”

His fingers tightened on hers, and he was so close to her that she could smell the mingling of his soap and the faint scent of smoke clinging to him from the explosion site. Without thinking, she brought up her free hand and touched Arcann's face, her fingers tracing over the fault lines of his scars. He started to flinch away from the touch defensively, his eyes moving away from her face, but she didn't let him retreat, touching the seamed, jagged scars that ran up into his cropped hair and the deeper, more thickly damaged skin near his jawline. 

“You brought me here, and you stayed, didn't you? You never left this room.” Selirah slid her fingers under the edge of his chin, turning his face back towards hers, refusing to let him look away. 

“You took my hand while I was carrying you.. you wouldn't let go,” he explained, faltering over the words, his expression stark, pale blue eyes locking with hers. “I couldn't leave you here alone. So I stayed with you, yes.” 

“Why? You could have left Senya to watch over me, or a guard... is Pierce alright? Broonmark? I tried to shield them from the blast...” She sighed, her fingers dropping away from his jaw, but he took hold of it with his cybernetic fingers, possessively keeping both of her hands. 

“They're fine. They had a few hours each in the tanks, but they're just fine. You protected them, and most of the Mandalorians, though we did lose the two who were closest to the saboteur. You did everything you could have.”

Selirah nodded, looking relieved, and her shoulders drooped slightly, relaxing again at the news. “Good. I am very fond of them both.. I'd hate to have lost either of them.” 

She glanced at their joined hands, and then at him, and Arcann knew he needed to let go of her hands and put some distance between them before Theron arrived. But instead of letting go, his hands tightened, and she made no objections. Her eyes showed her uncertainty at the wisdom of allowing this new sense of intimacy between them, and he didn't want to push her further and risk rejection, though he was sure she could see the longing in his own face, or sense it in his emotions, if she chose to do so. 

“I was afraid that I had lost you.” Arcann heard himself say the all too revealing words, and his stomach tightened painfully, expecting her to make a joke, be sarcastic, or just adroitly dodge the comment entirely. But she met his eyes again, and there was an echo of his own yearning and desire there in the lavender depths of her gaze, he was certain of it. He wanted to reach out to her, to feel her emotions and feel the strength of their burgeoning bond flowing between them again, but he held back, giving her the chance to speak, to say what she wanted to say first. 

“I know you were. But I'm here, and you haven't lost me. Arcann, I think that we need to talk about... ”

The sound of booted feet running down the corridor broke her concentration, and Selirah pulled her hands away abruptly, the physical disconnect nearly as painful to Arcann as the way her presence suddenly retreated from him as well, her emotions shuttered to a mere trickle of feeling. The knot in his stomach turned into a wrenching twist of frustration when Theron skidded into the room, almost crashing into the doorway before hastening to the open side of her bed. “Seli, you can't keep doing this to me. You're giving me grey hairs. Look. I found two on the way here!”

She laughed, her face lighting up with unfeigned pleasure, and Theron sat on the side of her bed, taking her hands without hesitation, kissing her fingers and the backs of her hands before bending close to kiss her lips. She made a show of searching for the mentioned grey hairs, ruffling through his brown hair lightly as he stretched out beside her on the bed, settling against her side, one arm wrapped carefully around her waist, mindful of her injuries. 

Selirah's eyes flickered towards Arcann as he got to his feet to leave, and she protested hastily, “It's alright, you don't have to go...” But she could see the pain in his eyes when he looked at them, entwined together in the bed he'd sat next to for hours, watching over her unconscious body like a patient sentinel. 

“I'll go get the updates from the medics and see if they will clear you to leave, and I'll check in with Koth and Senya to see about the prisoner as well.” 

His voice was calm, detached, but Selirah could feel the roiling emotions inside him without much effort, and knew her own feelings were probably just as volatile. This was not the time to address it, though, and so she simply nodded her thanks, and let him leave the room. 

Theron's relief at her recovery was palpable, and strong enough that his usual discomfort with being affectionate where anyone could see them could not overpower his need to touch her and know she really was here with him. Selirah pressed as close to him as she could, arms twined around him, the stab of pain from her ribs and healing bruises feeling like a fair price to pay for the moment of weakness she'd had with Arcann. It was ridiculous to feel this way, torn as if there were any sort of choice to be made. She'd made the choice long ago, and never had cause to regret it or feel like she'd been wrong. Quite to the contrary, ever since arriving in Odessen and reuniting with Theron, their relationship had grown stronger and deeper. It was only recently that she'd felt herself struggling to reach her passion for him. And only recently that he'd changed the playing field by telling her that he loved her.

It was the stress of the throne. The worry about the uprisings, about the escalating conflicts with the Republic and the Sith Empire. The explosion, the incursion here on Darvannis. It was the fear of trusting someone with her heart again when it had been gone so terribly wrong all those years before. It wasn't her, and it certainly wasn't that someone else had begun to appear in her thoughts. 

It felt believable, when she said it enough times in her head. 

But when Theron was absorbed in his reports and datapad less than an hour later, still physically next to her, but mentally a thousand miles away and wrapped in the work that kept him from her so often, Selirah couldn't help but wonder if he would have sat by her bedside for nearly as long as Arcann had, just waiting for her to open her eyes. 

She tried not to think of Malavai Quinn very often. All of her memories of him were still sharp-edged and painful for her, tainted by his betrayal. But she could remember clearly all the nights she'd woken up alone in bed, with him at the computer terminal in their quarters on the Fury, working on reports, or requisitions, or combat adjustment scenarios. It was admittedly an ugly, and possibly unfair, comparison to make, but overlaying Theron's workaholic tendencies with Quinn's rulebound mania for paperwork... there -were- similarities. Quinn had used his work as a way to control his environment, because it was the only part of his life that he had total control over at all. And his devotion to his duty had played heavily into his deception and betrayal of her trust as well.

Theron seemed to use his work for similar purposes, not because he was constrained by the Empire's rules like Quinn had been, but because so many things in his life had been decided for him without his input, or despite it and in opposition to it. His work kept him distant from his mother's abandonment of him for her Jedi principles, and his father's lifelong devotion to the military. It was an obsession as strong as the ones on either side of his parentage, but one devoted to the illusion of the freedom to choose his path as an agent.

Closing her eyes, Selirah let herself drift, not quite asleep. One hand resting on Theron's stomach, she lay as comfortably as possible with her healing ribs, listening to his fingers tapping on the datapad in his hands, and the sound of footsteps in the corridor. A few moments later came Senya's voice, pitched low and quiet.

“Theron, Lana wants to finish the interrogation of the prisoner on Odessen, and she was hoping we'd head back there soon. The medics are willing to clear Selirah, but they want her to spend one more day here before she goes. Would you like to stay here and go back with her then in the Fury, or come back with me now in the Gravestone, with the prisoner?” 

Selirah could feel Theron's eyes on her, and she knew he was weighing his desire to be in the thick of the constant mountain of work that kept their fledgling empire afloat against the knowledge that he should stay by her side. She also knew the moment that the reports piling up on the datapad outweighed her quiet hospital room. Keeping her eyes closed felt safer and less painful than listening to him explain why he was needed back at Odessen, so she feigned sleep as he kissed her softly and slid out from under her hand, pulling her blankets up to cover her more warmly. 

“I'll let the medics know that we're heading back, and I'll see her when she comes back. If we can get all this out of the way, it'll be less to trouble her with on Odessen, right? Maybe we'll have some answers for her by the time she arrives,” he said to Senya as they left the room.

It was not surprising to her in the least when she felt Arcann's approach down the hall or heard him enter her room. He sat back down in the chair he'd vacated earlier, quietly settling in to let her sleep and to watch over her. When Selirah heard the sound of the shuttle taking off a short time later, taking Theron, Senya, and the prisoner up to the Gravestone, she rolled slowly over to face him, ignoring the twinges of sharp pain from her ribs. “Tell me about the Old Gods of Zakuul?” she asked, partly to break the silence and distract herself from her thoughts, but mostly from a desire to hear his resonant voice. 

He didn't smile, but she felt no sense of hurt or pain from him that had been left to linger from Theron's arrival earlier. “We'll begin with Aivela, then... you would like her. She is the daughter of Izax and Scyva, the twin sister of Esne, and the goddess of passion...”

As he spoke, he slowly held out his hand to her. And she took it without hesitation, her fingers twining with his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to mess with this one more, but I've messed with it enough, so I'm going to put it up and let it stand as it is. I had a quote from Richard Adams in my head the last few days that definitely had some effect on my mindset while writing: “Odysseus...sleeps sound beside Calypso and when he wakes thinks only of Penelope.”


	8. Tug of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone on the Fury, Selirah and Arcann get in touch with their feelings a little more than they should. And they realize there's a connection between them that won't be denied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of long and I apologize for that, but there wasn't a good place to break it in half, and it just kept going and going.
> 
> And going.
> 
> .... and going. ;)

Every time Selirah was on the Fury, it felt both comfortable and strange. So much of her life had been spent on the ship, traveling from one planet to another, first at Baras' bidding, and then in pursuit of her own tasks and her own goals. It was home in a way that no other place had ever been, not even her luxury apartment in Kaas City, or the property that she owned on Nar Shaddaa. Every significant event in her life had happened on or near this ship, or on a journey that had begun aboard it, and to see it empty of her crew and apprentices every time she entered it was disorienting, to say the least.

Now at least sometimes, she had Pierce and Broonmark aboard with her, and Vette piloting, and it almost felt like old times, before everything had changed with the attacks by the Eternal Empire. Jaesa was still absent, and of course, Quinn. 

Theron had been on the Fury plenty of times with her, and she enjoyed his company. It felt a lot less empty with him there, and he was an audacious, daring pilot who greatly enjoyed the Interceptor's speed and maneuverability. 

This was the first time that she'd taken Arcann aboard her ship with her. There was something about the sight of him roaming the bridge that amused her; of all people to have in her little traveling sanctuary, the unseated Emperor whose throne she had taken was probably only little bit less odd than it would have been to have Valkorian here. 

He seemed so unsure about what to do with himself and obviously nervous that he might touch something on the ship that he shouldn't. His unease was easily felt, and for a while, Selirah was content to let him stew and be off-balance. Setting the coordinates for Odessen, she finally leaned back in her seat, glancing at him. “I'm guessing droids did a lot of the flying for you. And every Zakuulan ship I've been in has been pretty easy to handle. The Fury is a little more of a handful, but much more enjoyable, too.” 

Arcann came closer to her, leaning over the back of her chair, his arms folded. “I confess that flying something like this is not one of the skills that I have had a lot of opportunity to practice,” he admitted, a bit of self-deprecating humor evident in his voice. “Teaching us to pilot wasn't something that our father saw as a necessary skill. We were, I recognize now, raised in quite a bit of privilege despite how hard he was on us.” 

“You could learn to fly the Fury, if it's something that interests you. Vette is better than I am, and so is Theron, though both of them take more risks, as well. But I'm certainly competent to teach you, if you'd be more comfortable with me than with either of them.” 

He glanced down at her from above, a smirk drawing up the corners of his lips on the scarred side of his face. “I don't think Theron would be interested in teaching me anything that would bring me closer to you,” he replied pointedly, and she shrugged, unable to argue the point when it was absolutely and obviously true. 

“There's nothing for him to be jealous about. You and I are friends. Nothing more.”

“I don't think Vette cares for me very much, either,” he added dryly. She got to her feet, sliding past him only to be pulled up short by Arcann's cybernetic hand closing on her wrist. He only held on to her for a moment, long enough to be sure she would stop. Then he let go, his deep voice hesitant. “Do you love him?” 

Selirah didn't turn around to face him. She knew she wouldn't be able to answer if she did, and the faint thread of hope in his voice merited an answer. “I want to love him. Theron deserves to be loved, and I know that it hurts him that I can't make myself say it to him.” Falling silent, she paused a moment, and then added quietly, “I care very much about him, and I do want to love him.”

He was right behind her, and her shoulders were set so stiffly; so forbiddingly. She was like a prickly tempered manka cat, waiting for him to make a wrong move so she could tear him apart with her claws. “We'll be back in Odessen tomorrow morning. You can tell him all of this. It would help for him to hear how you feel, and to understand that you're not indifferent to him.” 

“I'm not. Indifferent.. to him. He should know that, even if nothing else is clear. But you're right. I'll talk to him.” 

Somehow, the conversation suddenly felt strangely ambiguous, Arcann realized. This time, when she walked away, he let her go.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rolling onto his back in the crew bunk, Arcann realized that starship berths were another dubious normal experience that he was not terribly sorry to have avoided for most of his life. He closed his eyes again, making an effort to get back to sleep, drifting off after a few minutes.

“The eyes of Esne claim what can never belong to her.” The Scion circled around him/her, and he/she looked down at his/her hands in confusion. The purple-bladed lightsaber in his hand was Selirah's, not his, and the hand holding the hilt was hers as well, but it felt as if he were looking out of her eyes, experiencing the moment with her. 

His father's incorporeal form faded into sight, time slowing around him. _“They speak of envy. My son's weakness. Do not let it be yours.”_

Her body moved as the Scions attacked, and he felt the shock of her saber as it contacted with the weapon of the Scion who had spoken of Esne.

His anger at his father's words pushed him out of whatever memory he was seeing, and Arcann woke in one of the crew berths, sitting up. Rising, he left the room, pacing restlessly in the central room of the Fury. Selirah's door was closed, but his gaze kept returning to it. He could feel her behind the wall, her sleep troubled by the dream he'd witnessed and been a part of briefly. 

What if she kept following that memory to its conclusion? To watch him murdering Heskal, see him destroy her droid companion, HK, in his attempt to kill her? To see him drive his lightsaber through her again? He stared at the door for a moment, then crossed to it and touched the pad, certain it wouldn't open for him. 

With a soft whoosh, it yielded, opening onto her room. Her armor was neatly hung on a rack, the room sparsely furnished and kept relatively neat. “Selirah,” he called, waiting in the doorway. “Are you awake?”

“You can come in, I'm awake now...” her voice was sleepy, half-alert, and as he entered, one red-skinned arm emerged from the blankets and pointed at a robe draped over the desk chair. “Can you get that for me, please?”

Arcann entered, retrieving the robe and handing it to her, politely turning his back as she sat up and put it on. Settling down in the chair, he glanced back at her. Propped up against the pillows and wrapped in the silky black robe, she regarded him with drowsy-looking eyes. “I'm sorry to wake you,” he began. She smiled at him, and he felt his breath catch painfully in his throat. Envy.. perhaps his father hadn't been entirely wrong. 

“It's fine, Arcann. Something's bothering you, I can almost see it radiating from you. Why don't you tell me about it?”

“I'm not sure how to ask this. But.. were you dreaming about Asylum? The Scions?” 

The startled look in her lavender eyes would have been enough to confirm his suspicions about what he'd seen in his sleep, but she nodded a moment later. “I was.. It was so clear. Their trials, the things Valkorian said to me. I thought... it was strange. I felt you, for a moment. It was like you were beside me. With me.”

“Not beside. I -was- you. I was sharing your dream, for a few moments. I might have been able to see more of it, but my father's .. observations angered me, and I lost hold of the connection and woke. I realized that...” He frowned, turning the scarred side of his face away from her, resting his his chin on one hand, elbow resting on the surface of the desk amid the datapads littering it.

She watched him for a long moment, and when he didn't continue, she spoke up. “You didn't want me to see you attacking me. You were afraid I would be angry to be reminded of that day and how close I came to dying.”

He felt sickened and ashamed to think of what he'd done then, the people who had died that day in his attack. And he'd nearly killed her. Run her through with his lightsaber. He'd had every intent to kill her, to rid himself of his father and of her rebellious presence both at once. He'd felt such an incandescent rage, such burning envy that his father favored her, and not him. The same rage that had fueled his thoughtless attack on his twin brother, that had deprived him forever of Thexan's presence at his side. “Yes. I didn't want you to wake from that nightmare and see me here. I was afraid it would make you hate me all over again. What you've built with your friends and your people, what you've made of the ruin I made of my father's legacy.. it's admirable, and I'm proud to be a part of it. I wish I'd seen the truth earlier. When I think of all the things I've done.. I have a long way to go to make amends.”

She moved while he was speaking, peeling back the blankets and sliding her legs off the edge of the bed, sitting on the corner nearest to him. Her knees, bare beneath the short robe, nearly brushed against his, and he suddenly wished he'd put on more than the simple shirt and pants that he'd been sleeping in. “I'm not going to hate you, Arcann. You have proven to me that you're sorry, that you're not that person anymore. I can't forgive you for anything but what you did to me, but it's in the past, to me. What you do from now on is what matters, and I see that you're trying to be a different person.” 

“I am trying, but it's not easy, and this link.. this bond we seem to share, it makes it so hard to keep myself separate. I saw your dreams. I felt what you felt. It was like I was you. I thought that this would pass, go away, but since I pulled you from the factory, it's only grown stronger.” Selirah's eyes dropped away from his almost guiltily, and he realized that she knew what was going on, and likely had for awhile. “You know what this is. Why didn't you tell me?”

Her hands twisted together in her lap, and her eyes stayed downcast, avoiding his gaze. “I don't know. I could feel it forming, and I suppose I just thought that if I ignored it...” Her jaw tightened, setting in a stubborn, pugnacious line. “The night of the coronation, I could feel you no matter where you were. I felt what you felt. And when we were dancing, it just seemed to mesh together like your hand on mine.”

“I felt it too,” he said slowly, his blue eyes thoughtful. “I tried not to eavesdrop on you, but it was harder every day not to just let what you were feeling bleed over to me and overlap onto my feelings. I didn't know what was happening. What is going to happen? Is it going to get stronger?”

Selirah sighed, an exasperated sound, and she got to her feet, edging past him to pace the length of the room. Her robe brushed over the skin of his knee, and he curled his hand into a fist, keeping himself from reaching out to touch her as she passed him. 

“I don't know. It's... I know about this but it's not something I ever devoted much time to in the Academy or afterwards. My training path, and my particular trajectory.. it just wasn't likely that I'd ever have the desire or opportunity to meet with anyone that was quite as strong as me, or be close enough to anyone to form such a bond with them. Lana might be able to give us more insight.” She paused, even her pacing stopping for a moment before it resumed, bare feet padding softly across the carpet. “Lana.. she probably knows. She would see it.”

“Thexan and I, we often knew what the other was going to do, in battle. We could anticipate each other's movements and worked together as a unit. It can work like that?” Arcann watched her pace, feeling the anxiety and uncertainty that was rolling off her in waves. 

“What? … Oh. Yes. But it also means you might feel it if I'm hurt, and the same for me, if you were injured. It has a price for the benefits it brings. Jedi often form bonds with their Padawans. With us, though.. I don't know. It's probably just been subtly forming and neither of us really noticed it. This is...” She made a gesture that to Arcann's eyes looked slightly obscene and more than a little bit irritated as well. “Very inconvenient.”

“Perhaps it can be severed.” He said the words, but the instant they were out of his mouth, Arcann wished he had not said them at all. He didn't want to lose this connection between them. Quite the opposite. He was so alone, except for the time he spent with his mother, and with Selirah. She was the only one who sought out his company, and seemed to enjoy spending time with him. Knowing that they might share something like this was strangely comforting. “If you wanted that,” he finished, casting a glance at Selirah. 

Her pacing stopped, and she finally looked at him, really looked at him. Her gaze, intent and assessing, made him uncomfortable, as if she were staring right through him and seeing everything. “It's not what you want. And I understand why you'd feel that way, Arcann. I know that the way people talk about you and look at you is difficult for you to endure, and I know that you are lonely. But this is...” One crimson skinned hand gestured helplessly. “This has ramifications that I don't think you're aware of, like that we can easily be used against each other. If someone took you, hurt you, to force me to comply with something... it could work. It's a weakness.”

“And a strength. We are each of us very strong, but together? Think of what we could do.” He got to his feet, daring greatly and moving close to her. It was often strange to realize that she was so small in stature, and it was only when he stood like this, next to her, that he wasn't overwhelmed by the force of her personality and her power and could really see her. “Think of the power we would have, with our abilities combined.” 

Without thinking, he stopped shielding himself from her, letting her in completely. Her eyes widened, and the pupils dilated suddenly in surprise. She swayed forward a step, drawn despite herself, and her own shields dropped. She was laid open to him, and he could feel everything. Her insecurities, her frustrations. The things she hated, and the much shorter list of things and people that she loved. He could feel her desire and love for Theron, a tightly guarded knot of emotion deep inside her that felt prickly, defensive. And he felt what she felt for him, too, and knew it was not only friendship, though it was equally clear that she was doing everything possible to bury it and ignore it. 

He knew she was seeing the same openness in him, his fears that he would be alone forever. His grief over his twin and his sister, and even the complex pain he felt over his father. His shame over what he'd done to Selirah and his mad obsession with capturing or killing her. Even less flattering was the reality of how he felt about her, even knowing that she was involved seriously with Theron, that she cared about the other man and had a life with him, lived with him, slept with Theron every night while he lay down the hall, thinking of her. 

For a moment, he felt that same disorienting point of view from earlier in her dream, looking out of her eyes, and he wondered if she was feeling the same thing, or if she knew he was with her. Her emotions swamped him, encompassed him, and he saw the need in his eyes from her viewpoint. Her/his hand touched his chest, and his/her hands took hold of her waist. It was impossible to tell where he ended and where she began, and he let himself sink into the sensation, opening the floodgates entirely, refusing to guard himself from her at all. 

She said something under her breath that sounded like a chain of curses far more likely to come from a pirate than a former Sith Lord turned Empress. But he knew deep down that his gamble had paid off. He could feel anger and guilt from her, but when he lifted her by the waist, bringing her face level with his, her fingers tangled in the light shirt he was wearing, twisting the fabric into her fists as she dragged him closer. 

Arcann wasn't sure if he'd kissed her first, or if she had kissed him, and he didn't care. All that mattered to him was her legs wrapped around his waist, and the weight of her in his hands as he supported her, holding her tightly against his chest. She bit him, sinking her teeth into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and he grunted in response, pushing her up against the bulkhead wall of her chamber and pinning her there between him and the cold metal. The thin fabric of her robe rode up over her thighs, and he pressed against her firmly, his hands sliding lower to edge beneath it, fingers tracing over the curve of her rear. 

Blood pounded in his head, his desire mingling with hers, and he held her carefully, mindful of her healing ribs and her lips parted against his, tongue flicking away the droplets of blood left on his lip by her teeth. She growled into his mouth, and he drove his hips against hers roughly in response, making her shudder in his arms. Her head fell back against the wall, her lekku pinned behind her, the tips brushing against his fingertips as he supported her weight. Lifting her, he turned towards the bed, laying her down on the dark sheets and balancing above her, his body held up by his cybernetic hand braced on the bed. His free hand traced over her throat and down between her breasts, sliding lower to tug at the tie of her robe, pulling it loose. 

Looking down at her, he paused, watching her ragged breathing, the rise and fall of her breasts, her lips parted, lavender eyes wide. “You know that I want you, but I need to know that you want me too, Seli.” His palm pressed against her belly, sliding the edge of her robe open an inch, baring more of her tattoo-marked skin. He bent to touch his lips to her stomach, tongue tracing a line up the center. Laying a kiss on the scar from his lightsaber, his eyes rolled upwards to meet her gaze, their bond letting the heat of her desire wash over him while his mouth tasted her skin. “Tell me.” Another kiss, this one between her breasts. “Yes?” His hand slid between her thighs, gliding over her skin, fingers slipping teasingly against her. “Or no?”

Her hips lifted, and he pressed two fingers inside her, finding her slick and hot. Her eyes rolled back and closed, and she bit her lip, stifling a whimper of pleasure. He took the edge of her robe in his teeth, peeling it away from her bare skin, and then he leaned up, looking at her and letting her feel what the sight of her did to him. Arcann rocked his fingers into her, provoking another gutteral sound from Selirah, but when her hands came to his waist to tug his pants down, he stopped her. His cybernetic hand took hold of her wrists, pinning them gently but firmly above her head.

“Not until you answer.” He could feel her uncertainty, and waited patiently, letting her make her decision without further interference, though the touch of her skin against his and the taste of her lips was driving him completely mad.

“You know what I'm saying if I say yes,” Selirah replied, guilt flavoring every word. 

Arcann nodded in understanding, his deep voice gentle, rumbling softly above her. “But it's your choice to make, Seli. I can't make it for you. I can only tell you how I feel and hope that you feel the same. If you're not ready, or you don't feel the way I do, then I will respect your decision.” He could almost hear the thoughts racing through her mind, could see the emotions moving across her face, but when she looked up at him, he didn't know for certain what she was going to say and it gave him a brief, sharp stab of fear, that perhaps she felt differently despite what he'd seen in their bond.

“Don't stop. I do want you, Arcann. Badly. And I'm not going to second-guess it, not tonight, not after I nearly died.” Her voice was flat, unyielding, but he could feel the swell of passion that she was trying to control, to not let it overwhelm them both. He let go of her hands, freeing her to bring them down, but she only cupped his scarred face with her fingers, looking into his eyes for a long moment before she pulled him down to kiss her. 

It was unkind to admit to the feeling of triumph that filled him at the touch of her lips, but Arcann felt it just the same, and he let it join the rich melange of emotion that both of them were steeped in. But it was lost quickly in the stir of mutual need and passion, like a mutual feedback loop that neither of them could break. He lifted her easily in his hands, settling her over his thighs as he knelt on the bed. Selirah's hand slid between their bodies, exploring the hard length of his shaft teasingly until he groaned, then holding him in her hand, squeezing her fingers lightly as she slid herself down over him. 

His eyes closed in ecstasy, his hands dancing over her skin, fingers tracing down her spine and then closing on her hips, guiding her in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her body arched against his, and she bit his lip again, gently this time, sucking on it before she kissed him again. The slow pace was maddening and exciting, the pleasure building in waves, her hips grinding over his, circling. His fingers bit into her skin, and she threw back her head, hips jerking sharply against his in response until he pushed with his legs, tossing her onto her back on the bed. 

Hooking one arm under her leg, he lifted it up, driving back into her roughly and forcing a cry from her lips that he drank down with his mouth. He wasn't a fool; he knew Selirah would wake up tomorrow with Odessen in view again and remember that she loved someone else, and she would probably push him away. So he savored every touch, every moment, every sound she made under him as he pinned her to the bed, all gentleness forgotten. She met his thrusts with a passionate lack of restraint that he loved, her hands on his wrists, holding on to him tightly. And she sobbed his name when she came, shuddering under him with pleasure, her body tightening around him unbearably till he joined her in release. 

Her lips touched his scarred skin, trailing kisses over his jawline and cheek, her hands making a slow trail down his back to his hips, pulling him against her. She rocked her hips against his insistently, and he shivered, feeling himself stir lethargically in response, his body unable to refuse her desires despite his bone-deep need for rest. A groan escaped his lips when her teeth closed on his ear, tongue flicking the edge playfully. “Again,” she whispered in his ear, and he smiled, leaning down to kiss her throat, his fingers sliding up to cup her breast, thumb gliding over her nipple. “Again,” he agreed, biting the soft crimson flesh of her neck.

She was his tonight, so he couldn't make himself fear what tomorrow might bring. Not yet.


	9. Afterburn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Arcann reach a tentative agreement that will probably be difficult to honor. They return to Odessen in order to get back to work and deal with the assault on Darvannis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me a bit, and as it is, it's shorter than I'd wanted. But it's done! ;)

Stirring slowly towards alertness hours later, Selirah yawned, feeling Arcann's scarred shoulder beneath her cheek. His cybernetic arm was wrapped around her back, the fingers of his hand resting lightly on her hip. Opening one eye, she watched his chest rise and fall slowly, his breathing a quiet, deep rumble beneath her. Fingers sliding over his bare chest and stomach in a brief caress, she drifted back to sleep contentedly. 

A chiming noise woke her some time later, and she cracked open an eye, determining that the offending noise was coming from her comm. Reaching one arm across Arcann's sleeping body, she picked it up and tapped it to activate it. Lana's voice emerged, loud enough that Selirah flinched in response, adjusting it to a more bearable level.

“Are you sleeping? When are you going to arrive? We have information for you. The prisoner gave us some more insight into the situation on Corellia, and we should move on it as quickly as possible.”

Casting a glance upwards, she saw that Arcann was also awake, his pale blue eyes unreadable. He stayed silent, his right hand coming to rest lightly over hers on his chest. “I'll be back soon. I was exhausted and I needed the rest, Lana.”

“Of course, we understand. The Fury is already clear to land when you get here. Meet me in the war room, if you would.” 

“Keep working up some possible responses to the attack on our factory and territory, and I'll be there soon.”

Selirah deactivated the link, dropping the device back on the side table before stretching out beside Arcann, leaning on one elbow with her cheek in her hand. “Credit for your thoughts?” 

“You could probably sense them, if you wished to,” he replied mildly. His eyes met hers, then moved away, fixing on the painting on the opposite wall that depicted the lush, rain-drenched forests of Dromund Kaas. 

“If you don't want to tell me, then I'm not about to just go rooting around in your head for answers, Arcann. This.. thing between us is not an excuse to invade your privacy, and I wouldn't do that unless it was an accident.” She slid her thigh over his hip, moving to straddle his waist, her lavender eyes gazing down into his face. “We have to go back to Odessen. Is that what's troubling you?”

He closed his eyes briefly, his body tensing under hers, but his hands came to rest on her hips, fingers stroking over her skin and sliding over her thighs. “Of course it's troubling me. I have no idea what things will be like when we get back there, or what you plan to do.”

“Things don't have to change. Not much, anyway. What is there to tell?” She watched his face as she spoke, reading the changes in his expression. “It's no one's business but ours. I'm tired of living up to everyone else's idea of who I should be. Last night was the first time in a long time that I haven't felt like I had a thousand eyes on me, judging every decision that I make, and questioning whether or not I'm going to be who I was in the past.” Selirah bit her lip, falling silent and shaking her head in one sharp motion. “It feels like all I ever do is try to tread a narrow, impossibly small path between two cliffs, trying to please everyone around me and ending up pleasing no one. Especially not me.”

“You're right that this particular situation is no one's business but ours, but I think perhaps there are people who wouldn't agree with that assessment when it comes to other aspects of your life. Whether you like it or not, you have a lot of people invested in your decisions and your plans. Even me. Perhaps especially me.” 

“You have a say in what happens between us, just as I do, Arcann.”

“Of course. But what I want is much simpler than what you want. Part of what I want is to make sure that you won't distance yourself completely from me when we land on Odessen. Don't just walk away from me and ignore this, or me. I can see your feelings for Theron, I know they're real, and I respect them. But I'm not ready to give up, either.”

“I'm not going to do that. I've already given up so many things over the years. And... as for Theron, and me.. I don't know what I'm going to do, or say to him. I'll have to figure that out when we get back on Odessen. But...” She gazed into his eyes, and the words just came spilling out, before she could stop them or temper them into something more controlled. “Unless it's what you want, I'm not giving this up. I'm not giving you up.”

He brought a hand to the back of her neck, guiding her closer. His lips against hers were tender, at first. But when she pressed closer to him, his arms sliding around her, the kiss grew deeper, more passionate. Selirah lost herself in the sensation of his body against hers, his fingers tightening on her hips, almost to the point of pain. Everything else seemed to dim when he was with her. 

She hadn't even realized how much pressure she felt every day until last night, when all of it was abruptly gone in the instant that they'd kissed. It was selfish, perhaps, but pleasurable to do something that was for her. Not for the galaxy, the Alliance, her friends, her people... just her. 

Drawing back, Selirah broke the kiss, her senses reeling with the passion burning through her veins. “Arcann,” she started, but the heat in his eyes, the way he felt against her; it made the words die in her throat, and she pushed them aside. Instead, she just said his name again, this time against his mouth. Then they both shut out the world again, wrapping themselves up in the blankets and each other. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Hours later, with Arcann piloting, they landed the Fury in her designated spot near the base. It was nerve-wracking, setting her much-loved ship down when he was unused to the size and handling of it, but he put it down neatly enough, and she was still smiling at him when they gathered their things and headed off the ship. He pulled her against him at the airlock door, bending to kiss her, knowing this would be the last time for a while that he would be able to touch her and kiss her freely. 

Their packs dropped unheeded to the floor as he lifted her in his arms, pressing her back against the wall hungrily, his mouth seeking hers again, and he drank in her gasp of surprise and pleasure. Her hands locked in his tunic, gripping him firmly, and he felt one of her legs wrap around his hip, stirring him into desire almost immediately. She was the one who broke the kiss eventually, pulling away after several long moments. Her lips were slightly swollen from his kisses, and her eyes focused slowly on his face as she backed away a step, then two, putting some space between them while she gathered herself, preparing to return to being the Empress, and not just Seli. 

The look on her face was so torn, so conflicted. What he wanted to do was to launch the ship again, and take her somewhere else. Somewhere it was just the two of them, and not all of the responsibilities and problems that faced them outside the door. But instead, he silently picked up their packs and opened the door, standing aside to let her leave first. It was hard, letting her go out the door, and once she was down the ramp, he saw Theron leaning against the walkway railing, waiting for her with a smile on his lips. The handsome former SIS agent swept Selirah off her feet, kissing her soundly and saying something in a low tone that made her laugh before the pair headed inside together.

Arcann sighed, hefting his pack and heading down the ramp once they had vanished into the building. He could be patient. He wasn't going to let envy be his weakness any longer.


	10. Seven Whole Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron starts to investigate things on his own, and gains some insight that leads him a little further down a troublesome path. Selirah and Arcann conspire to take a few moments for themselves, even though they both know that they shouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I caught everything, but I'll probably look at this in the morning and fix a few errors that I can't see at this time of the morning. ;) These two spoiled kids are going to soon have to face the truth universally acknowledged that you can't usually have your cake and eat it too.

Something strange was going on.

Theron watched Selirah at the holo table, where she was talking to Lana and Senya. Every now and then, her attention would drift away from the conversation, her eyes unfocused as though she were listening to something far away, or simply daydreaming. These little distractions didn't seem to alter anything she was doing, or bother her. She would come back to herself, refocusing and continuing the line of questioning she was involved in as if nothing had happened.

He'd seen her doing this from time to time, ever since she'd returned from Darvannis. And while of course it could have been a result of her injuries, she always gave him a warmly amused look when he asked her if anything was wrong. “I'm fine, Theron. Look at me, the very picture of health! The medics gave me a clean bill and sent me home.. they would not have done that if anything was wrong.” A variation on this was -always- the answer.

He wanted to believe her. She didn't make a practice of lying to him, as far as he knew, and there was no reason to start now. But it was so odd, and so persistent a behavior, that he'd finally asked Lana about it. The other woman was very perceptive, on more levels than he could access, for that matter, given that he was essentially force-blind. But she had replied with the same sort of answer, that Selirah was fully recovered, and that nothing was wrong with her.

Wait a minute. That was it!

Ahh, kriffing slippery force-users. Of -course-! Theron shook his head, disgusted at himself. Both of them had said nothing was -wrong-. Not that nothing was -different-. He'd seen his mother play that kind of semantic game with people in the past; it was a common way of letting people lead themselves astray without having to lie directly to them. She'd even done it to -him-. He should have seen it before now. He was asking the wrong question, or asking the right question in the wrong way. 

He still didn't want to believe that Seli was hiding something from him deliberately, but.. he'd learned to trust his instincts over the years. Force-blind or not, he still knew when a situation smelled funny, or when something seemed ever so slightly off-kilter. And something about the Twi'lek's behavior had been odd since her return.

Then he realized there was one other person he'd forgotten to ask. Arcann. Of course! He'd been there when she was injured, and had pulled her from the wreckage of the factory floor and had returned to Odessen with her. Maybe he'd noticed the weird spells that she was having and could shed some light on it.

His course decided, Theron left the war room to see if he could find Arcann, feeling like he was finally close to figuring out what was going on with Selirah. The other man was something of a loner; if he wasn't with Senya or Selirah, then he was often difficult to locate. He hadn't made many inroads of friendship within the Alliance yet, though everyone was warily polite enough to him. He kept to himself, and was tough to get to know, but on some level, Theron realized he hadn't really tried to get to know Arcann at all. He wasn't sure that he even wanted to; there was just too much to dislike about him. 

Outside the base, in some open ground near Selirah's ship, Sana-Rae's group of students were sparring and meditating in groups. Theron caught sight of Arcann's white-clad form among them, testing some of the more advanced students in their combat tactics. Standing a distance away, he watched for a time, observing Arcann's fluid, graceful fighting style. He had some of Selirah's preference for aggressive, powerful forms, but he also seemed to prefer to draw his opponent out and make them overextend themselves or tire themselves. 

Theron moved forward finally, entering the clearing and greeting Sana-Rae politely. She bowed to him slightly in the Voss manner, her strange eyes fixing on his face. “You are here to speak to Arcann, yes?” she inquired in her soft, mellifluous voice. “Let them finish.. they are nearly done and then he will be free.” 

As they stood side by side, watching the combat practice, Theron suddenly saw a familiar expression cross Arcann's face. That momentary look of distance, the appearance of hearing a faraway voice. The same look that Selirah had from time to time. He let the student facing off against him press him back during that moment, but then regained the ground and then some, driving the young woman back several steps before neatly disarming her and ending the fight. He said something to her and even smiled, his saber hissing as it deactivated. 

Theron glanced at Sana-Rae's inscrutable features, and without any prodding, the Mystic said, “You see it. But you are mistaken in what you are thinking. You are afraid it may be Valkorian again, influencing both of them. But it is not him.”

He hadn't even realized that thought had occurred to him until she mentioned it, but he nodded after a moment, agreeing. “Yes, she looks sometimes like she did when Valkorian was speaking to her. Like she's listening to a voice that no one else can hear. If it's not Valkorian, though, who is she listening to?”

Sana-Rae said nothing for several moments, and Theron briefly thought that perhaps she was finished talking to him entirely. The Mystic was an enigma, and often simply ended a conversation without much indication of it. He was still learning to understand her culture and her ways, but her insights were invaluable, even without an interpreter to be certain of her meaning. “I have seen them in a vision, fighting on a planet that I have never visted, both of them, together. They are one unit, one mind. They fight like nothing I have seen before, and no one can get past them as long as they are beside one another. I see them moving together as if they were a single person, and their power feeds one another with great strength.” She paused, then continued with a trace of reluctance in her voice, “I believe that they hear each other, not Valkorian.”

“You mean like a Jedi Master and a Padawan sometimes are connected? My mother told me about her old Master, and the bond they shared until he was killed by the Sith.” Theron's brows drew downwards, and he watched Arcann moving among the students, correcting footwork and bladework. The prince stopped, his head lifting, and Theron felt his cool blue gaze on him as if he were only a few feet away instead of meters away, watching him assessingly. 

“Voss do not experience this kind of bond, but yes, I believe that would be approximately the same. You should speak to Lana, or some of the Jedi. Or perhaps try the scholar, Darth Nox. If anyone is going to have information on this phenomenon, it would be her or Talos Drellik.” With this, Sana-Rae apparently felt that her role in the conversation was finished, because the Mystic simply walked away, joining her students.

Stripped of his desire to speak to Arcann now, Theron headed back into the base. There was a lot to think about, and he needed to speak to Lana and see if she would come clean with him this time. Kriffing secretive force-users. In the war room, Selirah, Senya, and Lana were all still there, but after greeting Theron, Senya asked to speak to Selirah and the two left, heading down the hallway that led to the hangar space. Seli gave him a quick smile over one shoulder and blew a kiss with her fingertips, then bent her attention to Senya, listening to the older woman as they walked away together.

“Did you intend to speak with Selirah, or will I do, Theron?” Lana asked, a smile playing around the corners of her lips. 

Theron rolled his eyes at her, leaning a hip against the edge of the table and crossing his arms. “Sana-Rae had some interesting things to say today when I spoke to her. About a vision that she'd had.” Lana just kept looking at him with that inscrutable expression that she wore most of the time, and Theron arched a brow back at her. “Do you know anything about the bond that Padawans and their Masters form?”

“Certainly, in an academic sense, but I have shared something similar, if not as deep. Among Sith, such a thing is rarely entered into unless it is to the benefit of the Sith in some way. If they are the stronger one, for instance.. then it is more of a conduit for power and influence over the other person, though it still has the usual side effects.” Lana's yellow gaze was fixed on him, the smile gone now as if it had never been present. “I didn't want to make you worried for her, Theron. I only just realized it myself a short time ago, and it didn't feel like something that you needed to know about. I haven't spoken to Selirah much about it, and she seems... unwilling to discuss it. It's likely that she's unhappy about it, given her independent personality.”

“Is there anything that I -should- be worried about with it? Is it going to harm her in some way?” 

“I don't think so, but.. it's difficult to say. This is not my area of expertise. If your mother was still around, perhaps we could ask her, but with her back in Republic space, it is .. complicated to contact her. I'm not sure it would be wise to inform her about something as fraught with difficulty as a force bond. I don't want to hand the Republic.. or any other potential enemy faction.. that kind of ammunition to use against Selirah.”

Theron fell silent, absorbing the information that Lana had given him. It still didn't feel like he had all the facts, but he knew that as forthcoming as she had been, Lana would still keep things from him that she felt were not his business, or that were secrets kept for Selirah's sake. He could hardly fault her for something that he also had done. It was the way that this Alliance worked, with Seli always as the final authority and decision maker, with all the information in her hands to thread together and to use as she best saw fit. 

For now, he would have to make do with what Lana had given him. But perhaps he would find Talos Drellik, as Sana-Rae had suggested. His first loyalty was to Darth Nox, and not to Selirah, so perhaps he would be a little more forthcoming.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Senya did not bother to stay by Selirah's side for long. Once they were in the hangar and well away from the war room, she nodded farewell to the Twi'lek woman and headed over to speak to Beywan Aygo about the patrol routes while Selirah went through the door that led to her ship. 

The students had abandoned their training for the evening, leaving the clearing empty of everything except the Fury. Keeping to an unhurried pace, Selirah keyed the ship's hatch open, stepping inside and locking the door behind herself. She wasn't surprised when Arcann's hand took hold of hers, pulling her down the hall behind him with an impatience that she could feel emanating from him. When even this pace wasn't fast enough, he turned around and picked her up with very little effort, only stopping for a moment to brush her lips with his own. “It's been too many days, Seli,” he growled against her mouth, carrying her into her chamber and closing the door, locking that one too; one more barrier between them and the world outside.

“A week. Not that I was counting,” she answered breathlessly, her hands locked around the back of his neck as he sat on the edge of the bed with her in his lap. “I can't stay away for long, or I will be missed.” 

“At least no one is likely to be looking for me.” True as the statement was, Selirah felt the quiet stab of pain from him that accompanied it. Her people tolerated him, but it was a lonely existence for him. Her fingers slid lightly over his jaw, thumb brushing his lower lip, and then she replaced it with her mouth, kissing him with feather light touches of her lips. 

“I look for you.” Her kisses trailed slowly down over his jaw, tasting his skin, then touched his throat, feeling his pulse leap underneath the tender caress of her mouth and tongue. 

“You always know where I am, Seli. Just like I always know where you are. Even when I wish that I didn't.” The deep rumble of his voice could be felt under her lips, and she opened her mouth, biting his throat lightly, not daring to leave a mark on his skin that would be seen or remarked upon. He shivered at the pressure of her teeth, and his hands tightened on her waist and hips, pulling her more forcefully against him, letting her feel his desire wash over her through their bond. 

Selirah closed her eyes, and her body arched against his in a graceful, silent invitation, feeling his cybernetic hand slide up the curved line of her back, holding her against him firmly. His need and her own ran together into an indistinguishable chain binding them, and the urgency overrode her caution about letting the stolen time go on for too long. It took both of them to get her armored, fitted pants off, and she almost found herself laughing at their shared desperation to just connect, and touch each other again after keeping themselves apart. Seconds after her pants hit the floor, she pushed Arcann back onto the bed, content to only open his enough to pull his painfully hard cock out from the fabric before she sank down over him with a gasp of shuddering relief that blended with his own low groan. 

Her hands spread on his chest, fingers splayed, feeling his heartbeat beneath her palm and the lift and fall of his chest as he breathed in ragged gasps. Hips rose and fell over his with a frantic, passionate rhythm, and Selirah held his gaze with her own, letting him watch the pleasure fill her eyes each time she slid down over him again. His own face was awash with desire, and she loved that he hid nothing from her when they were alone together. 

Arcann's hands took hers, their fingers locking together, skin to skin and skin to metal, and he held them like that between them as they both spilled over the edge into climax within minutes, the unrestricted bond letting them experience each other's release simultaneously. Selirah tensed over him, gripping him deliciously with her body while her hands tightened fiercely on his, and she collapsed into his arms, her breathing uneven and broken by his name on her lips, spoken in a whisper against his throat. Releasing her hands as she lay over him, he slid his arms around her, his fingers tracing slow circles on her back, feeling the soothing warmth of her body against his.

“You are driving me mad,” she said accusingly, but without any true anger, still caught in the lingering lassitude in the aftermath of their shared pleasure, her eyes half-closed. 

“Good. I shouldn't be the only one feeling that way,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. Turning his head, he kissed her, part of him deeply enjoying the little shiver she gave when his hand cupped the nape of her neck, just below the bottom edges of her sensitive lekku. 

Selirah let herself stay in his arms for several more minutes, not at all ready for the interlude to end. But eventually, she had to pull away from him, straighten her clothing, find her pants and boots. In the spirit of not helping matters at all, Arcann laid on the bed just as she'd left him, and her brief glances at him turned into longer looks, and finally into her rejoining him there for another few minutes while she kissed him, putting all of her regret and longing into each long, slow kiss. 

“I have to go, Arcann,” she finally told him, pulling away as he put his own clothing in order and stood. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again in farewell, before he released her as she opened the door. It felt almost physically painful to walk away. But she made herself take the steps and put the distance between them to return to the base without him.


	11. Resentment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron's need for information brings out something in Selirah, and their relationship hits a big wall.

When Theron arrived back at their room that evening, he stopped in the doorway, watching with a smile on his face. Selirah was .. dancing. And singing, too. He'd heard her humming before, amusingly often during a fight. It was clearly a happy habit, and one that she indulged in mostly while doing something that she enjoyed. Fighting definitely fell on that side of the scale, but apparently, so did going through her armor and sorting it into piles. She was wearing a towel wrapped around herself, and had recently come from the 'fresher, her back to the doorway as she spun across the room to one pile of armored gear, selecting a favorite pair of gauntlets and returning to the other side of the room with another graceful series of spins. Hips swung enticingly, and her lekku swayed down her back, the patterning of her tattoos making the movements even more beautiful to observe. 

Her voice was true and strong, and though she rarely spoke of Ryloth or her Twi'lek heritage, he realized it was some kind of traditional working song, though she switched between Basic and Twileki, and judging from the expressive movements of her lekku, parts of the song were conveyed in that manner as well. Just when he'd begun to feel like he was probably being somewhat creepy and should let her know that he was there, Selirah spun the opposite direction and caught sight of him in the doorway. She smiled at him, her lavender eyes bright with her good humor, and beckoned him in to the room. “Don't lurk, Theron. People will start to think you're a spy,” she teased, snapping a pair of her pants at him playfully before selecting a pile to drop them on top of with a flourish. “Trying to see what still needs to be repaired or refurbished before I use it again, and what is in good condition.”

“Do you think Lana is going to let you go off into the field to fight like before? You're not the Commander anymore. At least, not -just- the Commander,” Theron asked, his hazel eyes touching on her face and then away. Not from guilt because he was prying about Sana-Rae's vision, he told himself. It made perfect sense for him to gather information. Even from her. How else could he do his job well? He picked up one of her hooded heavy tunics, the leather and armor panels both showing the heavy score marks from glancing blaster bolts and explosions, and placed it in the 'repair' pile. 

“She won't be happy about it, I suppose.” Selirah picked through the rest of the armor, tossing pieces into their proper piles, then scooped up the 'good' pile and shoved it unceremoniously into her equipment locker, pushing the doors closed and latching them. “But you've all had plenty of time to get used to my methods. I don't stand in the back and bark orders. If I'm not willing to fight and take the risks, why should I expect you to do it?”

Theron smiled, settling down onto the lounge on the lower level of the room rather than the bed near the locker. Selirah was not above seducing him to silence any talk about subjects she didn't want to discuss, and was successful at it more often than he liked to admit; sitting down here wasn't going to save him, but it'd at least make it a little tougher than the alternative. He'd take any small advantage he could get. “If more of your Empire compatriots had been like you, I think it would have been a lot harder to resist your war efforts all this time. I suppose that's probably applicable to the Republic too, as much as I hate to admit it.” He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Seli, can we talk about something?”

She didn't answer for several minutes, letting the silence drag on until well-past uncomfortable. But Theron held his ground, waiting for her to speak, and finally she relented. “Of course.” She dropped the towel on the floor, picking up a loose pair of shorts and a soft, low cut tank top to pull on, her naked back to him. That he was watching was a given.. she didn't need to check to be sure of it. “Go ahead, I'm listening.” 

Pulling his eyes away from the bare skin only a few feet away and enticingly near to the bed, Theron put his face in his hands, resolutely looking at the floor instead as he picked up the shreds of his thoughts. “I need to talk to you about something, and I don't think you're going to want to talk about it. I need you to.. not do what you usually do when you want me to drop a subject, and let me talk, and please, just talk to me about this.”

Selirah had dressed while he was talking, and appeared down the stairs now, her bare legs and feet the first thing Theron saw. He lifted his eyes a little apprehensively, but she -was- fully dressed, though the tight fitting, low-cut tank top didn't leave a lot to the imagination. She sank down on the couch near him, tucking one foot up under the opposite leg. 

“What I usually do?” she began, and Theron was sure for a moment that she intended to make a big deal out of his wording since being naked had failed to shut him up. But then she continued calmly, “I'll behave, Theron. Now tell me what is bothering you, so I can go to bed.”

“Something seemed strange about you when you came back from Darvannis, Seli. You were distracted, often lost in thought, and at first I just assumed it was concerns about what happened there that were weighing on your mind. But I'd watch you, and your lapses of focus kept happening, and when I tried to talk to you about it, you just shrugged it off and told me that nothing was wrong.”

“Nothing -is- wrong, Theron. I'm perfectly fine. Better than fine. The medics did fine work, and as you've already seen and experienced personally numerous times since I came home,” she said in a throaty, amused tone, “I am in marvelous shape.”

Ignoring the blatant attempt to derail him from his point, Theron continued doggedly, “I went to speak to Arcann, the other day. I thought maybe he would have some insight, since he was with you on your trip back, and he was the one who pulled you from the explosion.” He saw a look of annoyance flicker over her face, her eyes fixed on his face. The pupils retracted briefly, and he wondered if she was .. talking? Is that how it worked? … with Arcann right then, or if it was just her temper stirring to life. He wasn't sure that either of those options were particularly comforting ideas. “But when I was waiting for him to finish his spars with the students, I saw him doing the same thing you had been doing. The same distant pauses, as if he was hearing someone far away. Sana-Rae was speaking to me at the time, and she saw me noticing it.”

Selirah's expression at this point was, at best, icy, and Theron knew his window for this discussion was closing rapidly. He sat back against the back of the curved couch, giving her a chance to speak up, to comment, to say anything she wanted to interject, but she said nothing, just looking at him with that flat look in her eyes. It was a little amazing how cold her lavender eyes could be, when he really thought about it. “She mentioned to me that she'd had a vision about you and Arcann, fighting on a planet she had not visited. Said that you were powerful together, that no one could stand against you as long as you were beside each other. That you drew strength from one another. Then she told me about bonds, what she knew of them anyway.. I'd guess that I actually know more about it than she does, and I assumed it was like a Master and Padawan's bond, or something similar. Lana seemed.. unwilling to give me too much detail either, but she didn't argue that it might be like that, though she did state that Sith didn't often do such things in quite the same way.”

She was still staring at him, and as he opened his mouth to try to salvage this conversation, she suddenly said, “Is there a -question- in there anywhere, Theron? Because I'm not sure what I'm required to do in response to this, except perhaps nod.” 

Theron found himself looking away from her, as if not making eye contact was going to do something to help manage or ease the situation. He knew she was furious, and he knew that Lana had even warned him about this, told him that Selirah was touchy about the subject of the bond with Arcann. But he'd just -had- to press the subject, unable to stop himself from picking at what he saw as a secret to be discovered. “Is that what it is? Something like a bond between a Jedi Master and their Padawan?”

“I don't know. Having never been a Jedi, or attended their training, I can hardly be expected to have an intimate knowledge of what one of those links is actually like, Theron.” Somehow, she managed to make his name sound vaguely accusatory, and the rest of her silky, yet strangely threatening tone only served to remind him very clearly of why Sith had been so feared across the galaxy for so long. He knew in a visceral sense that she wouldn't hurt him, but some part of him was still desperate to put some distance between himself and her while she was in this mood. “It's not the question you -want- to ask. I already know that you reached out to Talos, and I know why you would do that, as well. I am not going to stop you from pursuing this lead to the bitter end. So go. Ask Talos your questions. Get your answers. Because you won't be sleeping here tonight.”

Theron sat leadenly in place for a moment, still looking at the unyielding, furious expression on Selirah's face. “I wasn't trying to upset you, Seli. I just..”

“Couldn't trust what I'd said? Couldn't leave it alone? Couldn't leave me ONE thing that is mine? Have I not given everything to this Alliance? To everyone in it? I have sacrificed nearly every piece of me to be the savior that you all needed me to be, Theron! And you.. you promised me that you wouldn't pry into me! Get out!” Selirah surged to her feet, her eyes filled with rage. “You wanted to spy and know everything, so go and do what you do best. Dig into everything so that you can find all the flaws!” Her hands curled into fists, and Theron slowly got to his feet, knowing that he'd triggered some wound that had been festering in her for likely quite a long time. “Get OUT!”

The last word was nearly roared, and he could feel immense mental pressure behind it to do what she said and just obey; to leave immediately. She had never done anything like that. Not to him, or to anyone, that he'd ever seen. But as soon he shook off the compulsion she'd laid on him, he realized he was standing outside her room, and the door was locked behind him, and judging from the destructive sounds behind the door, she was probably not in the proper frame of mind to admit him again.

And as if it weren't enough to be mind tricked right out the door in such an ignominious fashion, Arcann was leaning against the wall next to the locked door. “What did you say to her?” he asked. 

Theron had never found Arcann easy to read. Before his redemption, the other man's mask had done the work of hiding his expressions from easy view, and there had only been one eye to use to judge his moods or whims when face to face with him. But even without the mask, he was almost as inscrutable as he'd been behind it. Dressed in his usual white, the Zakuulan prince looked calm, his arms crossed, but Theron could see some visible tension around his eyes and jaw. As a particularly loud crash came from behind the door, he rationalized that perhaps some of the other man's stress was also simply bleeding over from Selirah's towering fury. “It doesn't matter what I said to her. She's not likely to welcome any visitors right now, though.”

Arcann smiled, ever so slightly, a small upturning of his lips that looked decidedly triumphant somehow. His blue eyes met Theron's hazel, and he said deliberately, “I appreciate the warning, but... I think that it is -you- that she wouldn't welcome right now, Theron. Not me.”

Theron felt his jaw tighten in anger, but before he said something he'd regret, he turned his back on the other man and walked away. But no amount of bravado could conceal the pain and hurt that he felt when he heard the door open a moment later to admit Arcann. For once, he was the one on the outside looking in, and Theron couldn't help but feel that he'd done more to fracture his relationship with Selirah by insisting on prying behind her back than she had with her secrecy. She was right. He couldn't take her words at face value, and he'd had to dig into something that Lana had warned him was unwise. Then he'd pushed her on it when she'd clearly wanted him to leave the subject alone.

He was banned from her room now, though, and the night was.. unfortunately.. young. Perhaps he could find Talos Drellik with all of this suddenly acquired free time and make some constructive use of it. Then at least he wouldn't be standing outside her door all evening, wondering if he'd just torched his relationship with her completely.


	12. All Or Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah's prickly mood has everyone on edge, and Lana calls Theron on the carpet for his role in it. Selirah and Arcann work through a few things, but there's still a bigger problem looming over her.

“No. This is not a discussion, Lana. I am going, and you will do your job and set up the mission without suffering under the delusion that you have the right or the latitude to order me around. My decision is final. Now get to work, all of you. I want mission parameters sent to me by the end of the day.” 

Unapproachable and volatile, Selirah had been completely absorbed in her plans to personally handle one of the uprisings in the system. Her temper had become extremely quick and unpredictable over the last few days since she and Theron had argued, and she had no tolerance for dissent from the others. She swept from the room after setting Lana down hard for having questioned the wisdom of the Empress taking point on a military mission, Arcann barely a step behind her, leaving the rest of them staring after the pair incredulously. 

“Vette, would you consider..” Lana began haltingly.

“Nope. No way. Absolutely not. I am NOT facing the wampa in its den, and I'm not bringing up the idea that she stay here at the base again for you. She'll put me through a wall, and no offense, but I don't like any of you enough to take one like that for the team,” Vette answered hastily, both blue-skinned hands held up in a vehement gesture of refusal. “Senya can go talk to her son, Arcann the Gatekeeper, if she wants, but I'm staying out of it. Seli wants to go, and I say let her go burn off some of that temper on rebels instead of on us.”

Senya glanced around at the mention of her name, but even if she wasn't quite as intimidating as Selirah or Lana could be, the older woman definitely wasn't far behind. Her forbidding expression kept anyone from pressing her on the issue of talking to her son, and after a moment, even Lana threw up her hands in defeat.

Lana scowled, her yellow eyes narrowed, but she could hardly argue the wisdom of Vette's unwillingness to put herself in the path of Selirah's anger or Senya's dislike of interfering through Arcann's obvious favor. She could, however, turn her gaze on Theron, who was doing his level best to pretend to be invisible at his terminal. “Theron, I think we need to have a talk. Right now.”

“I've tried to apologize, Lana,” he protested helplessly as she seized his arm and led him off down the hall towards the hangar bay. “She just looks right through me. Last time she literally picked me up and moved me to the side without even touching me. I'm not sure what to do to fix this, alright? I've -tried-.” 

“Theron, I don't understand why your.. misstep has had the added benefit of throwing -all- of us out of the proverbial airlock at once. We weren't all prying into her business like you were, after all.”

Theron winced, the barb hitting home unerringly. “I wasn't... well, I was, but...” he fumbled, and tugged his arm free of Lana's biting grip, coming to a halt. “Ouch, Lana. Stop dragging me! I was just trying to find out more about what was going on with this bond between her and Arcann. Doesn't that seem like it'd be important information for us to have? How are we supposed to know the benefits and the shortcomings of it if we don't look into it?”

“We're NOT, Theron. It's not our business. It'd be like me saying that I needed to rate your bedroom performances with Selirah so I could discover which ones had the most emotional benefit for her, so we could duplicate it whenever she needed a little extra boost to her mood. That would feel slightly invasive, wouldn't it?” 

“Slightly?” He slapped his palm against the door lock to the walkway that ended near the Fury and the Gravestone, pacing through the door with Lana following more slowly. “Fine. When you put it that way, I guess I can see that maybe I might have been a bit overzealous and went a little too far.”

“You went a -lot- too far, Theron. And while I don't doubt that you had good intentions, at least at the start, I don't think it's reasonable at all for you to pretend that it was solely about information gathering. You didn't like her closeness with Arcann, and you wanted to reassure yourself that this bond wasn't going to interfere with your relationship with her, or give him an advantage over you. Sometimes, Theron, I don't think you really have made an effort to understand who she is at all. Think of the pressure that we all put her under all the time. It'd make anyone crack after everything that she's been through.” Lana's all-too-astute gaze was fixed on him when Theron turned around, and he tried to dredge up some indignation at her words, but they rang far too true for him to really manage it. 

He'd tried so hard to convince himself that his motives were clear of any emotional component, that he'd just wanted to understand the bond between Selirah and Arcann. But Lana was absolutely right. He'd felt excluded, jealous. Afraid that she would have so much more in common with the other man that she'd tire of him. And those very same fears had made him drive her away, straight into Arcann, who almost seemed to have been cleverly waiting for just such a mistake. Stupid, stupid, STUPID thing to do. Everyone had warned him, too. Lana, Talos, even Darth Nox, who had walked in on the end of his conversation with Talos and given them both an amused, knowing look before stating pointedly that it was unwise to interfere in the affairs of Sith. 

But he'd just kept bulling ahead like a rancor in a crystal shop, so certain that he was right to dig around in Selirah's extremely private mental business as if it belonged to the Alliance. As if it was another mission to configure and assess from every angle. He'd violated her trust, and he'd treated her as if she had no right to any kind of personal life or privacy, and he was the last person who should have done that to her. She was right. He'd promised not to pry into her secretly like he did into everyone else, and he'd broken that promise the moment he'd felt threatened by Arcann's relationship with her.

“You could have taken that time with Talos to ask about what being raised Sith is actually like. You could have asked me, or Nox. You could have asked Selirah about her childhood and adulthood at any time and tried to really understand why she sees things differently from you, but you wanted her to conform to your idea of what she should be now. We all did, really. Theron, you're going to have to figure this out for yourself. Find a way to talk to her. Find a way to mend this breach and make things better with her, for all of our sakes. We can't all keep walking on shards around here, trying not to set off a minefield full of baradium bombs. Please, just try,” Lana told him earnestly, heading back inside and leaving him out here to his thoughts.

Leaning on the railing, Theron crossed his arms on the metal edge, letting his gaze drift out over the forest that edged the clearing. Lana was right, of course. He needed to figure out a way to apologize to Selirah. Preferably one that didn't involve her tossing him over the cliff outside the hangar bay. But something... something still was itching at the corners of his mind about the whole thing. And he knew that it was ridiculous to even consider picking at this situation any more than he already had. He'd done more than enough damage, that was for certain.

But Theron was sure that he was still missing a detail somewhere, and that it was an important one.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The assault had gone, surprisingly enough, very smoothly. The target was an Imperial station that was heavily manned by soldiers. Selirah and Arcann had gone in, with Lana and Theron on comms from the shuttle, and once the fighting had begun, it'd been just an endless hail of blaster fire and explosions.

They'd kept visual on both of them for most of the battle, and neither of them had ever seen anything like the coordination they'd observed. Pinned down at one point, nearly surrounded by heavily armed soldiers firing at the pair, neither of them had seemed particularly strained or even inconvenienced by the effort of driving back the defenses. Bolts from blasters and rifles were deflected by the purple or the gold saber, and if one of them was pressed too hard, the other shielded them to give them time to recover. It was as if they always were aware of what the other was doing without any need for verbal communication. There were no missteps, no miscalculations. Just a perfect synergy of two people. It was incredible to watch, even moreso than the usual feats that one witnessed from force-users in battle.

Not a single bolt got through for the first half of their destructive path through the station, and the few that did manage to get through were merely glancing blows off armor, or minor injuries that neither of them seemed to even notice. When they reached the commander of the station, they made such violent and short work of the fight that even Lana looked impressed. 

“Turning off visual, Lana,” Selirah's voice abruptly came through the comm, barely even short of breath. “We're on our way back, but I don't want to give anyone moral pangs while we make sure of any soldiers that may be wounded.”

“You're going to make sure they're all dead?” Lana asked, her response calm and unruffled as always. “A wise decision.”

“Yes. I don't want to be fighting the same people somewhere else in a month. Visual off.” The cam link went dark.

The shuttle door opened to admit them both a short time later, and Selirah was even smiling when they boarded. The good mood lasted through treating the minor injuries that they'd sustained, and through checking the damage to armor, and she even joked a bit with them as they returned to Odessen, victorious. The minute they landed, though, she was out the door before Theron could even speak to her or ask her to stay behind for a few minutes. And Arcann lingered only long enough to give Theron a coolly amused look before following her.

He caught up to Selirah a short distance away, falling into step beside her. “You must stop taunting him,” she said quietly, her gaze flickering briefly to his face before returning to the path. “My issue with him is between the two of us, and it's not your affair. He doesn't deserve mockery from you, and you are better than that.”

“Am I? You may be the only one who believes that.” Arcann clasped his hands behind his back, his stride shortened slightly to keep pace with her. “You still hope for reconciliation with him, and it is obviously not in my interest for that to occur. He has a part of you that you won't let me touch. So perhaps it is just my.. envy that makes me provoke him.”

“Still letting your father's words poison your mind? He knew nothing about you but your flaws. Do you want to live up to his view of you, or mine?” Her chamber had been cleaned up by her droids within hours of her outburst of rage, the furniture righted and the damaged pieces replaced. The door slid closed behind them, and she keyed the lock, removing her belt and saber hilt, laying the saber on the table by the side of the bed. Sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, she lay back and closed her eyes. “You do not need to have every piece of me,” she said abruptly as she felt him settle on the bed near her, his hand coming to rest lightly on her stomach, fingers spread. “I am not your personal carbonite artwork anymore, and you must learn to be less possessive.”

She could feel his gaze on her, but she didn't open her eyes, content to let him look, and even touch as long as he did not think to dodge the conversation. His fingers slid under the edge of her armored tunic, gliding along her skin to stroke her stomach idly, enjoying the higher body temperature that she naturally possessed. “That doesn't come easily for me. I see you more clearly than he ever could, Selirah. I know who and what you are, to your core, and you see all of me. What we could be together is something he could never give you. He is incapable of this. Of sharing everything with you. Why do you want him at all? Sleep with him if you like, but what can he offer you really?”

She chuckled softly, and he could feel the sleek muscles under his hand tightening with the sound, flexing beneath his fingers. “I wondered when you would try that tactic. It has the benefit of being true, so as methods go, it's a clever one,” she replied, affection tingeing her voice and her presence in his thoughts. “I'm not going to qualify my feelings for Theron, or explain why he is important to me to you. You can accept it as truth, or not. I can't force you to believe me, or give it the weight that I do when I make decisions. But my feelings are not going to change. Listen to me when I say that, Arcann. Because I mean it.”

“Are you telling me to give up, then?” he asked, and though she could feel the starburst of his panic and fear in her mind, Selirah kept her hands still on the bed, and her eyes closed while he spoke. “I don't want to do that. I don't want to spend the rest of our lives bound to you and constantly drowned in your love for another man when you know how I feel about you.” His hand withdrew abruptly, and she finally opened her eyes again, the lavender irises shifting to take in his face.

“I'm being honest with you. Theron matters to me. He will always matter to me. If you want to care about me, then walling him out means you are only caring about the parts of me that you can have, and that's not all of me, Arcann. He is important to me, and I … I ...“ 

Arcann laughed, a bitter sound, his pale blue eyes meeting hers challengingly. “You can't say it, not even now. How important could he really be? He's not like us. We don't have any secrets from each other. I see your fears of loving someone again, but you know that you never would need to fear my betrayal, because you would see it if it crossed my mind as easily as I would see it in yours. I will never turn on you, because it would be turning on myself. How could you trust him to do the same when you see how he is?” He moved over her, his hands resting on either side of her face, looking down at her. 

“You would never turn on me? Because of how close we are? Because of our bond?” she asked, and he answered without thinking, trying to reassure her.

“Never. I would never turn on you.”

“Did you say that to Thexan too?”

The words dropped into the quiet room like a handful of grenades, and Arcann drew back from her abruptly. His emotions roiled, pain and hurt foremost, but anger and shame present as well. Selirah sat up, seizing his hands in hers. “I'm sorry. That was a terrible thing to say. I'm sorry, Arcann. Please.”

He looked at her hands in his, and for a moment, he looked as if he would pull away and leave. His shoulders relaxed after a few minutes, and he shook his head. “It was, but it was fair. Thexan.. all I can say is that for that moment, when I felt him pull me back, stop me, I was completely mad with rage. I still don't really remember turning on him. I remember the look in his eyes, though, the trust that I would not really try to strike him down like I'd just tried with our father. And then the look of betrayal and shock that I'd killed him. I felt him die and as I realized what I'd done, Father came to me and told me we had much to do. I think that was the only time I felt like he approved of me, and it was because I'd murdered my brother.” Grief stole over him, washing over Selirah as well, and she slid closer to him, releasing his hands so that she could put her arms around him. He rested his head on her shoulder, and she pressed her lips against his throat, kissing the skin softly. 

“I shouldn't have said that to you, and I'm sorry. I felt so cornered. I don't want to feel that way, not with you. You're right, I do know how you feel about me.” She started to say something else, but he shook his head against her and she fell silent, feeling his strength under her hands. 

“I don't need you to say anything. I already know.” He closed his eyes, breathing the spicy-sweet scent of her skin that was all her, even beneath her soap or any of the luxurious oils that she favored for her lekku. “You will have to say it to him though, if you want to mend things between you. He wants to hear it, and he can't feel it in your thoughts the way that I can.” She could feel Arcann sigh as he spoke, but the words felt sincere, if a little exasperated as well. 

“I will have to tell him about much more than just that. I'll have to tell him about us. He may not forgive me, when I am done,” she said tentatively. 

“Can I hope that he doesn't?”

Selirah laughed at the plaintive note in his question. “Yes, you can. You would anyway, whether I let you or not. But I hope that he does forgive me, and you as well. Thank you, Arcann.”

“For what?”

“For understanding how I feel.”

She felt him smile, more than saw it, even though his face was turned towards her enough for her to look at him if she tried. Instead, she rested her cheek against his forehead, knowing how much he enjoyed the heat of her skin when he touched her. 

“I have to love all of you, Seli. That's what you said. So I am loving all of you. Even the parts that love Theron. At least, I'm trying. Are you going to go talk to him?”

“Tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a direction in mind and it went a little sideways, but I'm okay with where it ended up. ;) Sometimes they have a will of their own.


	13. And Nothing But The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah comes clean with Theron, and a lot of things are said. The truth is supposed to always be the best policy, isn't it?

It wasn't her habit to lay in bed when there was work to do, but Selirah found herself somewhat unwilling to get out of bed the following morning after her talk with Arcann. Sleeping alone had lost its charm a long time ago, but even if she'd spent more time in his company this week, letting Arcann stay in her room where everyone could remark upon it had been even less desirable. So she'd sent him back to his own room when she was ready to try to go to bed, hoping to avoid making a messy situation even worse. Sleep hadn't come easily, with the prospect of coming clean to Theron looming over her thoughts, and now the time had arrived and here she was, hiding in her room. Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs out from under the covers and got up to get dressed and ready. 

When the door slid open, Selirah stood there for a long moment, struggling to gather her courage. It was ridiculous to feel this nervous. Drop her in the middle of a warzone and tell her to win the war? No problem. Waves of enemies bent on her destruction? Totally fine. But facing Theron and telling him the truth about what she'd done? Impossibly hard to face. She squared her shoulders, heading into the hall and towards the war room, resolutely refusing to let herself cower away from having this conversation any longer.

Theron was at a terminal in the war room, pulling down intelligence reports, and she crossed the room to him quickly, before she could lose her willpower. He looked up, and she saw the surprise and trepidation in his hazel eyes, though it was hidden just as hastily. “Theron, can you be spared for awhile?”

“Sure. I'll send this to Lana and then I'm all yours.” 

They went topside, barely talking, and Selirah felt herself getting more uneasy by the moment now that the time had arrived to speak to him about what she'd done. She wasn't even sure what she was supposed to feel in this situation. Guilt? Shame? She wasn't ashamed, and she didn't feel guilty. The only thing she felt was angry. At herself, for stupidly hurting Theron. At Arcann, though she knew it was unfair to blame him. It'd been her choice, her decision. He'd given her the option of stopping and she'd gone forward, knowing full well what it would do to Theron. But she still felt it, a kernel of resentment towards him despite herself.

She could feel Arcann below in the base, the flame of his presence in the force as bright as always, full of his strength and wrapped in a brittle, cracked shell of his ever-present loneliness and defensiveness. Reaching out to him without thinking, she touched his thoughts, letting herself feel the comfort of the now-familiar touch of his emotions as they twined easily with her own. Then she slowly withdrew, narrowing the bond as much as she could. It wasn't time to lose herself in her link with Arcann no matter how badly she needed the support, not now with Theron next to her, his own emotions leaking out, easily detected. He was nervous, apprehensive; he was afraid. More than likely he felt that she was going to really end things between them. 

Well, that might be the result, but it wasn't the intent. And if anyone was going to be leaving anyone else, it'd be Theron leaving her.

She led him through the base and outside, into the forest just beyond the walls. Her feet crunched on the leaf litter, and she could hear him behind her, though his own steps were quieter than hers. Going to his execution with dignity. The thought was bitterly amused, and she even smiled for a moment before she remembered that she was the one who would be doing the executing. Slowing as she approached the quiet glade where she'd gone to speak to Valkorian, what felt like a lifetime ago, Selirah stopped at the edge of the tranquil, clear pool of water, looking down at her reflection. 

“This is starting to feel a lot like you're taking me out here to terminate me, you know,” Theron said, and she could feel the smile in his words, even without looking at him. “That's not why we're here, right? Because if not, I want to apologize.”

“No. I mean.. no, that's not why we're here, but also no, please don't apologize, Theron. I just wanted to talk to you somewhere quiet, where no one was going to interrupt us or be listening. I needed some privacy and I wanted it to just be the two of us.” She twisted her hands together in front of herself, struggling with the words, unsure how to even begin. “I want to say something first that I have been remiss in saying. I don't know if it's right that I say this now, but I feel like I need to in order to give myself the courage to say the rest of it.” 

Settling down on one of the large rocks on the shoreline of the pool, Selirah sat crosslegged, her armored boots digging into her shins a little uncomfortably at the position. Theron watched her for a moment, his expression wary. Then he sat as well, choosing the rock nearest to her, and she lifted her eyes to look at him, taking him in. She could still remember his warm, infectious laugh that first time she ever heard his voice on Manaan. His laugh and charming good humor had intrigued her from the start, and when she'd finally seen the person who owned the voice, she'd been lost. Oh, she'd tried her very best to keep it to flirting and playful teasing, never forgetting that he was still the enemy and that eventually, he'd go back to his side, and she to hers. But instead, they'd just kept getting closer, more involved, and when Lana had let him be taken by the Revanites, Selirah's rage had been towering. She'd realized that day what he meant to her, but she'd been so unwilling to let him know, and now she was here because of that fear. 

“I love you, Theron. I shouldn't have said it the way I did when you told me how you felt, because I wasn't ready to say it and it just.. it made me panic. Quinn.. I know you're not him. I do. But I think I never really felt safe to say it again after he tried to kill me. I tried to get past it. To forgive him. He was so apologetic, and he was so heartbroken, and I understood what my former Master had done to him. I know he didn't have much of a choice, but he had -some- choice. He could have said something to me, and he didn't. He programmed assassin droids to kill me, and shot at me himself, and I just could not stop seeing it every time I looked at him. It poisoned every bit of emotion I had for him until I had to break it off permanently.”

She paused, taking a deep breath, and Theron reached out to her, taking her hand in his. Looking down at his hand, she felt her stomach clench in pain at his attempt to comfort her, but she let herself keep holding his hand anyway. “I loved him and he turned on me. He tried to murder me, face to face, and I wish I'd killed him that day. Because once I'd left that room, I no longer had the courage to end his life, and as I watched everything we'd had together turn into ashes around me because of his actions, I started to hate him, and myself, and everything about that weakness of love that made me spare him. Maybe that's wrong. Maybe I should have just let it be about his betrayal, and not that love itself was flawed, but I didn't know how else to deal with it at the time. I pushed him away, and grew to resent him, and finally I couldn't even look at him anymore without feeling disgusted with myself. I couldn't let that weaken me, so I left him.”

Theron was listening intently, curious about where she was going with all of this, but the expression on his face was hard for Selirah to take. The sympathy, the warm affection. That brightness in his gaze and his demeanor that made him so impossible to resist. But she was going to have to kill it like Quinn had tried to kill her. Ironic that now, so long after the events that had destroyed them, she understood how he'd felt when Baras had ordered him to kill her. To take an action that would be the end of something he treasured. Far, far too late for it to help her and Malavai; but now she understood the pain of knowing it would be your hand that caused a fatal wound to the person that you loved.

“Seli.. you could have told me this, any time. You could have told me that you couldn't answer, that you felt afraid to love me. I would have understood. Everyone is afraid to lose people they love. You're not unique in that. Why do you think it took so long for me to tell you that I loved you? Because I loved you for a long time.. I did. But I couldn't see it, and then I didn't want to see it, and then I was afraid to say it out loud. I was so afraid of losing you that day that it finally was worth the risk, and I wish all the time that I'd said it sooner. So it wasn't this.. 'In case you die' kind of situation. I realize now how unromantic that really was. I should have done the whole flowers and dinner thing for you, and let you know what you meant to me when it wasn't life or death.” He laughed, and her knotted up stomach eased for a moment, and she even smiled a little at him, unable to help herself. 

“It was perfect. You said it when you were ready, and knowing that you loved me... it made me stronger, Theron. You made me stronger.” Selirah squeezed his hand gently, her fingers stroking the inside of his wrist, feeling the delicate, thinner skin there and his pulse underneath beating with relief. He clearly thought the worst was over, and it made her feel even worse that it wasn't. “And I'm sorry for everything, lately, because I've been so selfish and lost in my own self-pity. I felt like I was some kind of impossible ideal, and everyone had so many expectations of me, and so many ideas of what I was, or what I should be, or what I had to do. The pressure was driving me crazy, and I just.. I lashed out everywhere. I hurt you so much, and I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I know you. I should have understood why you wanted to understand what was happening with Arcann and with me.”

“You don't need to apologize, Seli. Just tell me these things. Talk to me and be honest with me.” Theron lifted her hand to his lips, but she drew it away from him. Gently enough, but even so, he gave her a surprised look, the wariness coming back into his hazel eyes. 

“I am not finished, Theron, and I don't want to lose my courage. Wait a moment, and hear it all, and then you can decide what you think of me.”

“This is starting to really make me nervous, and more than a little bit worried. You know what I think of you, Selirah.”

“You trusted me, even though you knew you shouldn't for so many reasons. You knew I was not only a Sith, but one that was the Emperor's own right hand, his executioner. You know what I did.. my exploits were far from secret, and I made no attempt to hide them. All of my entertainments were public as well, and Sith are not known for their loyalty and devotion. I strayed from Malavai when the urge struck me, but he knew and said nothing. What would have been the point? Sith embrace their passions. They take lovers wherever they wish and he knew better than to try to keep me from anything or anyone that I wanted. Maybe it made it easier for him to try to murder me. I don't know.”

She could just about feel the moment that he drew the lines together, connecting what she was saying with what she was going to say. His hand tightened into a fist on his knee, the knuckles whitening with the strain of it, but she doggedly pushed forward, determined to say it all. “When I came home on the Fury with Arcann, there was such a connection there, between us. Partly because of the way we could feel each other so intimately through the bond, but perhaps also because of our long antagonistic relationship as well. Fighting is just another form of passion.”

“You slept with him.” Theron's voice was toneless, flat, completely uncharacteristic coming from him. But Selirah didn't lift her head to look at him. She knew she couldn't look at his face and finish. 

“Yes, I slept with him. It was my choice. I could have said no, and he would have respected it. I knew it would hurt you, but I did it anyway. I wanted him, so I indulged myself. I'm not going to try to make it about anything else or try to excuse it, Theron. I did it, and I'm being honest with you like I should have been right away.”

"In our bed?"

"No, Theron."

“More than once?”

“Yes,” she said simply, feeling oddly tired and distant from it all now. Everything had been said. She'd told him all of it. The choices were in his hands, now, and she felt a strange, painful relief that it was done. Her part in it, anyway. Theron sat silently across from her, and she just waited. The moment stretched out into several minutes, then ten, then fifteen before he chose to speak again.

“People look at you, the soldiers, everyone, really. You draw the eye. I have always seen it. Stars, it's what pulled me to you at the very start too. You were so sure of yourself. Powerful. Unafraid. You have this striking quality about you. I waited, from the very beginning, for there to be other people in your life. I waited for you to do what I've always been told Sith do as a matter of course, but you didn't. You kept seeking me out, waiting for me, wanting -me-. It was hard to resist, because you were.. well, you, and the rest of us were being drawn along in your wake,” Theron said softly. He sounded bemused, like he was partly just talking to himself, and partly to her. “I stopped thinking it would happen, after a while. I thought.. maybe she loves me. Maybe this will work out, between us. I stopped looking for the signs, and when it happened, I didn't see it at all. Kind of embarrassing to admit, given my previous profession.”

Selirah unfolded her legs, settling her boots on the ground and stretching her legs out in front of herself as she waited patiently. She listened, not interrupting, letting Theron have a chance to speak, unsure of what he was going to say or do. He fell silent again for a while, and then he stood up, gazing down at her while she fixedly stared out over the water. 

“I don't want to say something right now and later be unable to take it back, Selirah. You were honest with me, and now I'm being honest with you. I don't know how to react, or what to say. I need some time to think about it. Is that … can you understand that? I'm not trying to drag this out or string you along, but I can't just make any kind of permanent decision right at this moment.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“Look at me, Seli. Please.” Theron crouched down in front of her, waiting for her to turn towards him, and finally touching her chin with his fingertips, gently turning her face back towards him. She looked pale, her crimson skin taking on an odd, washed out color beneath the stark black of her tattoos. Her eyes dropped, looking at his chin instead of his face, but he waited until she lifted them to meet his gaze again, though it took several more minutes. “I don't know how to respond to this. You have to give me time.”

“Yes. I know. I said I would, Theron.” Selirah rose to her feet, offering him a hand to get back up without thinking. But Theron took it without hesitation, and she froze, her hand in his as he stood, facing her. Her heart clenched, beating painfully hard in her chest. He was so close to her, and if she just leaned up, she could kiss him, feel him against her, maybe make him see... She could _make_ him understand. All it would take is a little push here, a twist there... 

She bit her lip sharply and stepped back, pulling her hand free, turning away from him before she could finish that dark line of thought or worse, talk herself into it. “I'll give you time. And space, too. I'm going to go to Zakuul for awhile. I can't always be here if I want to integrate the Alliance fully with Zakuulan society. I'll take Lana, Pierce, and Broonmark. Maybe Nox and Senya as well. If you need any of them back for operations here, you can send for them.”

“Are you taking Arcann with you?” 

“No, Theron.” She held up a hand, forestalling anything further. “I need to go pack some things. Please have Pierce run pre-flight checks on the Fury, and ask Jorgan to join us as well. I leave Odessen in your capable hands.” 

Without a backward glance, Selirah headed back towards the base, leaving Theron to return at his own pace. She could feel his gaze on her back, but she dared not look at him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. ;) I basically wrote all the dialogue first, then went back in and fleshed it out. It was a lot of talking. A lot. It went on and on. But not in the fun way. ;) I think I've exorcised my 'do all the writing NOW' demon for a bit so I may slow down a bit now.


	14. Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zakuul reaps the benefits of Selirah and Theron's falling out, but Selirah is starting to feel the effects. Odessen is full of tempers flaring, and Vette and Lana both feel like they're in over their heads.

**Zakuul:**

Lana stood patiently in the lift as it rose through the Spire. Quick as the machinery was, it was a long ascension, and she had plenty of time to go through the information she needed to pass on to Selirah, and could have still had time left over to daydream. If she were the sort of person who did that, which she was not. Their extended time here on Zakuul had been fairly fruitful so far, and things were settling into a certain rhythm, day following day without many surprises to shake things up. 

Senya and Jorgan were busy with reinforcing the Spire's defenses and augmenting the fighting forces. The combination of their knowledge and backgrounds had an odd synergy, and Jorgan's wife, another expert soldier who was former Havoc Squad, had joined them in the first week to help with drills. That had the added benefit of making Jorgan a lot easier to get along with, so Lana had been quite pleased to have her here. 

Darth Nox had brought Talos Drellik with her, and the pair of them had been going through all of the Scion holdings and materials, learning everything that they could about the decimated seers. There were very few of them left, but Nox had set herself to rebuilding the order and cataloging all of the information to be found about Valkorian's work developing the Knights and the Scions both. It promised to be an immense job, but the Inquisitor seemed quite excited about her work, and had buried herself in it completely.

Pierce and Broonmark were of no use to Lana at all since neither would leave Selirah's side, but the Empress favored their presence and seemed to enjoy their company, crude as it was. It was reason enough to tolerate their presence, and she could hardly claim that they were not effective at looking (and being) very dangerous and intimidating in defense of Selirah. They had a long history together, and at this point, she'd take any help she could get when it came to dealing with her.

Selirah wasn't being difficult, exactly. In fact, it was the relative passivity that troubled Lana whenever she spent much time in the Twi'lek's company. Whatever had happened with Theron on Odessen before she'd hastily packed them all up and come to Zakuul, it had clearly had an effect upon her. The volatile, angry Selirah of before had been replaced by a distracted, distant shell that responded when one spoke to her, but otherwise seemed elsewhere nearly at all times. Her eyes would rarely focus on Lana, if she even looked at her at all instead of out the clear walls of the Spire, and she went through the tasks she had set herself every day with a mechanical, rote efficiency. 

The doors to the lift hissed open, and Lana stepped out onto the walkway leading to the Eternal Throne. Selirah sat in the throne, one elbow bent, the hand cupped around her chin. Her eyes were turned away from Lana, gazing out into space and the passing Eternal Fleet ships that were on rotation near the planet. Pierce cast a glance at Selirah, bending to whisper to her. The thought occurred to Lana that were it not for Pierce's careful prodding, the Empress would just stare silently out the clear bubble of the Spire all day long, and possibly all night. As she came closer, she also realized that it was evident that sleep was eluding Selirah as well; she looked exhausted, and a little thinner than usual. 

The lavender eyes finally shifted towards Lana as she reached the foot of the throne, resting on the blonde advisor with a distant expression on her face. “I assume you have some reports for me, Lana. Feel free to begin whenever you wish.”

Lana cast a quick glance at Pierce, who shrugged one massive shoulder in response. There was nothing for it but to do as she'd been told, so she began detailing all the daily reports from administration, medical, the rebuilding committees, Nox's progress, Jorgan and Senya's recommendations for troops, and the success rates for the patrols in Old Zakuul. Then she launched into the updates from Odessen. It took some time, but was finally finished and Lana had taken down the few notes that Selirah had roused herself to offer.

“If that is all, then..?” This was spoken in a tone of, at best, fading interest, and as Lana answered that she had nothing more at this time, Selirah turned away from her mid-response, looking back out into the vista of stars. 

Heading back towards the lift for another long trip back down to her office and personal chambers, Lana tapped out a message for Vette, asking her for a time when they could holo. The answer came almost immediately.

_In an hour, Lana. Let me guess, you're having a really fun time too. Let's compare stories! - Vette_

**Odessen:**

As Lana's holocall came through, Vette answered it hastily with a harassed sounding, “Just a minute, Lana.” She was standing with her hands outstretched to either side, with Arcann on one side, and Theron on the other. They were both talking, right over each other and simultaneously over Vette, who was shouting, “Shut up, both of you! This is ridiculous!”

“Whatever is going on?” Lana asked, her voice coming strongly through the holo image. 

“They are driving me insane. I did not sign up for babysitting, you know! Seli up and leaves, and I'm not saying that she hasn't got a lot of work to do. Of course she does. But THIS one refuses to stay here on Odessen,” an accusing blue finger indicated a slyly amused Arcann, “and THIS one refuses to let him go to Zakuul,” another accusing blue finger indicated a tired and irritable Theron. “And I am going to shoot them both,” she finished triumphantly.

“Vette, please refrain from shooting them, just as of yet.” Lana sounded, as always, completely reasonable and immensely calm, and her tone seemed to help defuse a little of the situation. “Now, Theron, perhaps you...”

Arcann crossed his arms, giving Theron an unfriendly look. Theron's expression mirrored his almost exactly. “If Selirah had wanted you to go with her, she would have taken you. She told me specifically that she was not taking you with her,” Theron interrupted. “And you know why I don't want you there.” Vette, who was looking at Theron while he spoke, turned her head towards Arcann, curiosity showing plainly in her eyes.

Arcann smiled, very slowly and mockingly, his pale blue eyes amused. “Of course I do. And you know why I want to be there with her. Well.. you know the obvious reason, but not the others, since you lack the ability to understand them,” he replied, smugness punctuating every word. “She didn't tell me not to go. She just told you that she wasn't taking me with her. I'd say that leaves room for my interpretation of her intentions.”

Theron's eyes narrowed as Vette's head swung back towards him. She looked fascinated, Lana noted with a sigh. “Don't start with that bantha crap again. If Selirah doesn't have a problem with it, then it's none of your business either, and your reasons don't even matter in the first place. She said you weren't going with her, and that's the end of that.”

Predictably, Vette's head turned towards Arcann, and Lana interjected hastily, “Alright. Look. You both need to table this for now. I will speak to Selirah and see what she wishes. Both of you need to go back to work and stop antagonizing each other, and no one is leaving Odessen for anything but patrols until that decision is made. Arcann? Theron?”

Both of them turned to look at her holo image, and though they conceded slowly, they -did- agree to postpone any decisions until she'd had an opportunity to speak to Selirah. Once the two men had left the room, Lana finally let her shoulders relax slightly. “Vette, I absolutely can't ask Selirah about any of this. I can barely get her to respond to me about the work she's set us all to here. Talk to Theron. See if you can figure out some kind of cease fire between him and Selirah. Maybe you can get him to come here. She would want to see him, I'm certain. Perhaps it would help.” Lana paused, then added, “She seems quite despondent, Vette. I am concerned.”

Ending the holocall, Vette went in search of Theron. Selirah's chamber was the last place she thought to look, and of course was where he'd been the whole time she'd run all over the base trying to locate him. Sinking down on the couch beside him with an exaggerated sigh of effort, the little Twi'lek propped her feet up on the table, crossing her booted ankles. “So. Let's talk, Theron.”

“About what, Vette? Look, I'm sorry that you were caught in the middle. He's just … he's driving me crazy, and he knows it,” Theron admitted. “I almost wish she -had- taken him with her, sometimes, just so I wouldn't have to look at him every day. But that would be worse, I guess.”

Vette folded her arms, hands interlaced behind her neck just under her lekku as she leaned back comfortably. “I know there's a lot going on here that I don't know about, and I'm not asking you to tell me anything if you would rather not. But do you think that maybe you should try to talk to Seli? You guys have always hated being apart. You have to know she's unhappy.”

“I know. I mean..” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture, and Vette felt a stab of pity at the plainly heartbroken look in his eyes. He had it bad, but obviously something had spooked him pretty seriously if he was willing to keep his distance for this long. “It's not that simple, Vette. I asked her for some time, and that's why she's staying away.”

“Is this about Arcann somehow? It's obvious that you and Prince Not-So-Charming aren't best buddies. Theron, I've known her for a really long time. Before she was a big deal. Before she met you. Before she became this... force of nature in the galaxy. I know her probably as well as it's ever possible to know her. I want to help, but I need to understand what happened. You guys really seemed so happy.”

Theron fidgeted, weighing the options in his head before he finally made a decision. “She slept with him. Is sleeping with him. Not.. right now, obviously, but.. it was more than once, and when I had time to think about our conversation, I realized that she also never said she was planning to stop sleeping with him, which... you know... feels like an important distinction that I wish had been made clear.”

“Oh.” Vette's tone, and expression, were both lacking in surprise. But she did look sympathetic, and her arms came down, hands resting in her lap. “Hmm. Seli and Tall Dark And Murderous. It makes a certain kind of sense when you...” Catching the wince that crossed Theron's face, she held up her hands hastily in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry, that wasn't helpful. I have a big mouth, ask anybody! Not that you need to ask, since you just had a demonstration. Look, Theron. She is crazy about you. -That- I know.”

“Then why did she do it, Vette? Was it something about me? Something that I did? I keep going over and over everything, trying to figure out what happened.”

“Whoa, whoa. No, let's not do that whole shame spiral thing, okay? I told you.. she's crazy about you. She loves you. That's got nothing to do with what she did, though.” Theron gave her an incredulous look, and Vette laughed. “I know how that sounds, but... in her head, it really has nothing to do with it. I'm sure she didn't want to hurt you, but all her life she's been told that power is all that matters, and that power comes from passion, you know? When she gets an itch that is likely to result in more power for her, she scratches it.” 

The willowy Twi'lek shrugged her shoulders with an insouciant air, as if to say _Sith, am I right?_ “I'm just saying that I don't think the thought process works like yours would in this situation. Right or wrong, she was brought up in an entirely different way, in an entirely different culture, with an entirely different value system. You're expecting her to act like you, and she's confused, because.. she -can't- act like you. She's nothing like you. Which is part of what she loves about you, Theron. You are.. kind of literally... her better half. I'm not excusing her and Formerly Known As The Bad Guy for doing the deed. But I think if you love her, you might have to shift your expectations of her a little bit to the more realistic side.”

“I don't even know if it's possible for me to.. I'm not sure I can adjust them quite that far, Vette.” Theron made a helpless gesture with one hand, then ran his fingers through his hair, rumpling it absently in a way that somehow still ended up looking intentional instead of just messy. “It's a lot to ask. I love her, but it's hard to know how to deal with what she did, or with whom, for that matter. And he is such a..”

“Spoiled, selfish, kriffing obnoxious, previously mass murdering, steaming pile of self-pitying nexu poop?” Vette suggested cheerfully, provoking a wan smile from Theron. 

“That pretty much covers it. I'll give it some thought, Vette, I promise. Thanks,” he replied as she got to her feet, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Maybe you should think about going to see Seli. I know this is tough. But... I really think you need to decide what you want to do and tell her, no matter which way you go with it. You can't leave things like this, because both of you are suffering. So either figure out how to make it work somehow; or just let her go.” Vette headed out into the base, leaving Theron with his thoughts and one very large decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote on and off all day today when I had free time. Crappy weather and a bit of the sore throat crud helped keep me working on it for a distraction, when I wasn't leveling one of my Bounty Hunters. ;) Few steps forward for Theron? Maybe.


	15. Dream Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierce works with Lana for once, in order to get Selirah drunk, (That part wasn't exactly in Lana's plan) because they think she needs to sleep and don't understand why she's refusing to do so. 
> 
> But the end result is sleep, and in sleep, one often dreams.

His lord was slumped over on the overstuffed lounge chair, clad in a silky, royal purple robe tied indifferently closed around her waist. Her half-empty glass dangled from her fingers, and then dropped from them as they loosened, leaving the glass to thump onto the rug, spilling the pungent liquor onto the fabric. Pierce picked up her fallen glass, setting it on the table in front of her to go with the two empty bottles of Dorian Quill that he'd brought to her room with the excuse that he wanted to toast to all of the work they'd been doing here on Zakuul. He'd kept her drinking while putting away one glass to every two of hers. It might not have been quite what Lana'd intended when she had told him that Selirah needed more sleep, but results were results, and she was... asleep. Or unconscious. Same difference, eh? 

Scooping her up gently, Pierce carried her over to her bed, pulling back the covers with one hand as he laid her down. He slid the covers up over her prone form, tucking her in carefully, and then turned out the lights, leaving only a low glow in the seating area. Settling his bulky frame into the pillowy lounge that he'd just moved her from, he tucked one hand behind his head, letting himself sink into a light doze as well. Selirah hadn't been sleeping, nearly at all, for a long time. He knew she was taking stims to keep herself awake, and he'd noticed the same marks of exhaustion that Lana had, and agreed with the Sith that Selirah needed sleep whether she liked it or not. For that matter.. so did he, since guarding her meant staying awake as long as she was up. Broonmark was outside the door; he might as well catch a little sleep while he could. 

_Selirah was dressed in her purple robe, her feet bare, with stone beneath the soles and a pleasant breeze washing over her skin. When she looked up, she could see thrantas sailing overhead, the giant beasts serene and untroubled by the strife that constantly ruled the planet on which they lived. She'd always liked the thrantas. They were beautiful, and the soft, singing noises they made were pleasant to the ear. Looking around, Selirah took in the scenery of the remote manor with wide verandas that extended out gracefully over the crystalline waters of the mountain lake. The servants were unobtrusive and well trained; she hadn't seen a one since she'd arrived at the house, but there were drinks on a nearby table, and exotic sweets that she'd always loved._

_“I'm starting to think I should buy a place on Alderaan. You always choose to come here.” Arcann's voice, deep and familiar, made her smile faintly, but she didn't turn around, correctly assuming that he would join her on his own. His arms came around her from behind, his scarred cheek resting against her tchin. She laid her her hands over his where they rested on her stomach, closing her eyes for a moment._

_“You don't have any credits. I took them all, remember?” she teased, feeling the strain she lived under every day start to dissipate at the sound of his laugh._

_“So you did. I'll have to get a loan from you, then. Do you offer fair rates?” He slid his hands to her hips, using his grip to turn her around so that her back was to the lake view. Lifting her easily, he set her on the carved stone railing that surrounded the wide, semi-circular veranda. His fingers slid down to her thighs, guiding them apart so that he could stand between her knees, her eyes level with his pale, ice-blue gaze. “Can I negotiate for a better deal, perhaps?”_

_Selirah smiled, her hands moving over his chest, fingers gliding lazily over his broad shoulders, undeterred by the cool metal edge of his cybernetic arm. “I can be reasonable, if I'm properly motivated, keella.” The endearment brought her mind up short, and she frowned, distracted away from Arcann as she began to wonder how she'd gotten here, to Alderaan... she was on Zakuul, not here. She hadn't left, had she? Was there a reason why..._

_“Tell me what keella means, Seli,” Arcann asked, his voice low and calm, pulling her attention back to him. He smiled at her, and she felt his pleasure at her company in her mind, his relief that they were together, not apart. But they had been here for days, hadn't they? Why would he be concerned about them being apart?_

_She shook her head in a short, confused motion, but answered him distractedly. “Darling. It means darling, in Twi'leki. I don't usually speak it, anymore. I haven't in years. Every now and then, with Vette... but I don't know why I would think to do it now.”_

_His fingers traced over the tattoos that marked her tchun, the touch on the sensitive skin of her lekku making her shiver a little against him as he responded, “I like it. You should speak your native language more often, at least to me, if you're not comfortable doing it around the others.”_

_“I stopped... a long time ago. When I was little. It only made Imperials treat me worse than usual, because it reminded them that I was an alien just as much as my appearance did. For a while, I would still think the words in my mind, but then I stopped even doing that. I learned to mimic the Imperial accent, at first.. then it just became the only way that I spoke, eventually.” She leaned close to him, her lips touching his in a feather-light kiss that turned swiftly into a far more passionate embrace. Her right hand curved around the back of his neck as he leaned into her, his arm wrapped around her hips, keeping her close to him, and safely balanced on the stone balustrade. “I miss you, Arcann,” she murmured, her lips a bare breath away from his. “Why do I miss you, if we've been here, together? There's something that I'm forgetting.”_

_“Because we're not here, Seli. Someone must have made you sleep, because you've been holding me off for days by keeping yourself awake. But here you are, with me.. so you are sleeping. It's the only time you aren't guarded against me, keeping yourself from me. Aren't you tired of it yet? He hasn't come to you, but I do, every chance that you give me. I miss your company too much to stay away from you. If he felt the same way, he'd be there with you, or he'd have asked you to come back to Odessen by now.” Arcann bit her lower lip sharply, and she growled deep in her throat with the pleasure/pain of it, her left hand finding his belt, tugging him firmly against her as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Desire hit her like a fist, the loneliness of the last few weeks apart from Theron and Arcann both augmenting the feeling to an enormous degree. “Let me come to Zakuul. I won't do anything, just be near you. That's all I want.”_

_She laughed, trailing kisses over his jaw, lips brushing over his scars and the unscarred skin alike without restraint. “You can't lie to me. I don't know why you would even try.”_

_“Because I like to hear you laugh at me. Tell me that word again, Seli. The one you called me before,” he invited. His hands held her strongly against him, and she could feel him firmly pressed against her, making it difficult to focus on anything but how much she wanted to take all that clothing off of him and not feel alone anymore._

_Selirah rested her cheek against his, one hand stroking over the short cropped stubble of his hair, wondering absently if it'd be brown or black, if it were longer than it was. Either one would be striking in combination with the sky-blue shade of his eyes, she decided. “Keella,” she repeated, kissing him, lingering over it self-indulgently, tongue tracing the line of his lower lip teasingly. “This is just a dream then, keella?” she asked. “Pierce was drinking with me. I remember thinking that he didn't seem to be nearly as drunk as I was getting. He wouldn't have done it on his own. Lana must have put him up to it.”_

_“Just a dream. But almost as good as reality. Let me come to Zakuul, Seli. I want to see you, and I know you want to see me,” Arcann urged, his lips touching her throat, leaving kisses at first, then giving her a bite that rivaled the earlier one on her lip and sent a ripple of lust stabbing through her body._

_She rocked her hips teasingly against his in response, forcing a low pleased sound from his lips where they were pressed to her throat and shoulder, and he nipped her lightly again, drawing back enough to see the darker reddish mark left by his teeth. “I do want to see you. So stop using my dreams to get around the fact that I left you there on Odessen. I need to sleep, and I can't get any rest if you keep sneaking your way into my mind every time I close my eyes.”_

_Arcann leaned in and kissed her, then nodded. She could feel the sullen frustration underlying his capitulation, but at this point, she'd take the agreement, happily given or not. She was just too tired to care about his mood right now. “Alright, Seli. For now. But I'm not going to wait forever for you to summon me or come back to me. Theron might be able to stay away from you, but I will not.”_

Selirah felt his presence slowly retreat from her mind as she forced herself to break free from the dream, letting the beautiful landscape of Alderaan shred to mist and vanish as she struggled through the drunken haze still lingering in her mind. Finally she sank back into a dreamless, exhausted sleep, unaware of Pierce's presence in the other room, keeping vigilant guard over his lord while she finally rested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to go ahead and blame you guys for this one because I got up this morning and had to get it written down. And here we are! 
> 
> Just kidding, I've had this idea in my head for a while. This was just a good place to put it.


	16. Whatever It Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah wakes refreshed, and ready to do battle for what she wants. Theron realizes that perhaps he hasn't been entirely fair in the balance of expectations. An accord, tentative as it is, finally is reached.

Rolling onto her side, Selirah reached out sleepily. The other side of the bed was empty, and she woke at the touch of the cold sheets. Her robe was twisted around her, uncomfortably tight, and she stripped it from herself, untying it and flinging it onto the rumpled bed. Rising, she went to dress in her usual armor, seeing then that Pierce was in attendance, sleeping on the lounge. 

He stirred as she took her armor from the stand near the wall, coming awake rapidly with the ease of a lifelong soldier, glancing at her naked form. His eyes lingered, and she dressed methodically without haste; casting him an amused look as she settled armor over the thin, padded underlayers beneath. “I can't think that it's nearly as amusing to stare like that without Quinn around to find it offensive, Pierce.”

“Truth, m'lord. But you're still well worth lookin' at. Always have been.” Pierce gave her an unrepentant grin, and she laughed in response. “You look more rested. Sorry for th' little trick, though.”

“No, it's alright. I was exhausted. I know you were just trying to help. You and Lana both,” Selirah added. “She must have put you up to it.”

“A bit. Even so, it was for the best. What's on the docket for today, m'lord?” He arched a brow, curiosity in his brown eyes, and she held out her arms, letting him tighten the fastenings on her gauntlets for her.

“Negotiation, Pierce. I'm finished with waiting. Have Lana contact Odessen. Get Theron here. That is not a request, so if he tries to balk about it, you have my permission to go there bodily and drag him here. Either way, you will make sure he's in the Spire by the end of the day.”

“Understood, m'lord. I'm on it personally.” Pierce snapped her a salute, offset somewhat by his cheeky grin, and headed out the door.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Theron stepped out of the lift that provided access to the throne room of the Spire, not sure what to expect of the room that he'd only seen once or twice. But it was empty, cavernous, and felt even more vast than reality, with the clear circular walls bringing the grandeur of endless space inside. 

Selirah sat on the throne at the end of the long walkway, watching him with an inscrutable expression on her face, dressed in her habitual red, black, and gold armor. Hesitating a moment longer, he finally made his way down the lit walkway, the water running to either side providing a soft, murmuring backdrop to his footsteps. At the foot of the stairs up to the throne, he stopped, crossing his arms, regarding her. Theron had no doubt there was a reason she'd chosen to do this the way she had. She could have met him in her room, or on the rooftop gardens she favored; any less formal setting, or one that allowed seating for people other than just her. 

But instead, she'd chosen to make him come before her here, reminding him forcefully of her position and title, and who she was to the Alliance as a whole, as well as to Zakuul. To draw a parallel between herself and the powerful man she'd deposed along with his ambitious children. Something had altered the balance from the way things were before, and Theron was wise enough to be wary about this invitation until he knew which way the wind was blowing with her.

“I'm glad you're here, Theron. I woke up this morning and decided that I was very tired of waiting for you to make a decision. This involves me as well, and so I felt we should talk through things together and both have feedback into the path we intend to pursue going forward, whether that be together or separate. Don't you agree?” Selirah's voice was calm, the clipped Imperial accent strong, and though she had asked for his agreement, Theron was under no delusion that he had a choice in this little 'discussion'. She would have his feelings out in the open, or she would likely take any refusal as proof that he had cooled in his feelings towards her, that much was obvious.

“I'm not sure that this is the ideal place or time to have this discussion, Selirah,” he attempted, only to be cut off summarily by a sharp hand gesture.

“No one will interrupt us. In fact, they can't, even if they did want to. It's the perfect place, and it is the -only- time, Theron. So we will discuss it, and you will start by telling me what your feelings are, right now.”

With such a gauntlet thrown down, Theron saw no possible direction but the one she had chosen, which was no doubt her entire purpose. He had to admit that today, when he looked at the armor-clad woman sitting on the throne she'd fought to gain, he saw the same powerful, driven Twi'lek woman that he'd first fallen for in those early days fighting Revan. Someone who saw obstacles as something to be torn down, and someone who knew nothing could stop her from getting everything that she wanted. Including a Republic agent who happened to also be the son of two of the most important people in Republic space. 

He also saw that it was unlikely he was going to win this negotiation, because she had clearly come to fight. 

“That's not a simple thing to tell you. I'm not even sure what you want to hear from me. You came to me, told me that you loved me, and in nearly the same breath told me that you'd slept with Arcann. And while it didn't click for me just then.. I did notice that you didn't say that it'd never happen again. Am I correct in that assessment?”

Selirah leaned forward, resting her folded arms on her knees. “You are correct, I did not say that it would never happen again,” she agreed without any rancor, a gleam of amusement showing in the depths of her lavender gaze. “I have always admired your quick mind just as much as I admire your other excellent assets.”

Theron colored at the boldly stated compliment, the flush of heat in his cheeks making him feel briefly off-balance. He didn't miss the pleased smile that momentarily graced Selirah's lips at his embarrassment, either. “I think it's something that should be laid fully on the table, then, shouldn't it? Are you prepared to break things off with Arcann in order to be with me?”

“Is it a dealbreaker for you if I say no?” she shot back shrewdly, and for a moment, Theron had that sensation he'd had around force-users in the past, as if they were attempting to rifle through his thoughts to figure out what he was going to do. 

“Stop peeking,” he ordered, and she laughed, leaning back in the Eternal Throne.

“As you like, Theron. No peeking.” 

“I don't know. I need more information in order to make a determination.” Treating this like an actual negotiation oddly made it easier to bear, even in the face of her stubbornness about Arcann, which felt like a red flag to him. “Do you have feelings for him?”

“I do, I suppose, of some sort. You know I'm terrible at those kinds of questions, Theron. Ask him.”

“Ask him if YOU care about him?” he asked incredulously, unsure that he'd heard her correctly.

“I suspect he has a better handle on my feelings than I do, sometimes. You do know that he is the one who urged me to come talk to you after we fought? He thought it would be better than letting it fester, and he knew I needed to tell you the truth. He's not exactly the villain that you want to paint him as, Theron.” She watched his face carefully, but honored her word and didn't try to see what he was feeling about their conversation thus far. As cautious as he was with his reactions in the field, though, Theron was not nearly so hard to read one on one like this. He wore many of his thoughts and emotions on his face transparently, and she had learned over the years how to gauge his potential responses. He was considering her words, which was enough, for now. “I won't say that he doesn't have plenty of things to work on, and I know that he has been goading you, likely even moreso since I left. But I want you to understand that he sees how important you are to my happiness, and he respects it.”

“He didn't respect it enough to not try to seduce you,” Theron replied, bitterly. “He knew what we were to each other.”

“Don't pretend that he made me do something against my will, Theron, because that is not what happened. But if the situation were reversed, would you have simply accepted it? I like to believe that you and I were drawn together, that it was our destiny in a way. That we belong together. What else explains two such different people finding each other? Falling in love with each other? Staying together through everything that we've been through? The Emperor's Wrath and an SIS agent who is the son of a Jedi? I don't want to think that it was just.. proximity. You're very attractive, and have plenty to recommend you. But if I'd just been looking for a tumble or a fling with someone attractive, I could have had plenty of options. Instead, I wanted you, always you. I still want you. You are seeing this as an either/or situation, but that's not what I see.” She shrugged her shoulders, easing back in the throne again, drawing her tchin over her shoulder, fingers tracing over the black tattoos that trailed over the crimson skin. “I love you, Theron. Not less than before.. the same as before. I do not want him more than you. I don't want him instead of you. I still want you. That's how I feel, and that's why I wanted to talk about this with you.”

This torrent of information was a lot for him to digest, and Theron paced back and forth for a while at the foot of the stairs, working through it. “I don't know, Seli. I would respect your choice, but... I guess that I understand what you're saying. If I'd met you and you'd been with someone, I'm not sure it would have stopped me completely from being attracted to you, from wanting you. I never had to think about it, before.” He shook his head in a short, sharp movement, trying to clear his head. “You're asking me to see things the way you do, and it's not easy for me.”

“Do you think it has been easy for me to try to fit into the way that you think or your ideals, Theron? I have bent, again and again. I spared Jedi lives on Ziost for -you-. I kept Lana from taking that Jedi, Master Surro, for study when I agreed with her plan, because you looked at me so desperately, so hopefully, wanting me to let you take her for healing. And so I did, because I wanted you to be happy.. as much as any of us could be, in that catastrophic mess. I have done everything you have wanted, and I'm not sorry for those choices, because of the way you looked at me afterwards. I often think of what your reaction will be, if I do something, and it influences my decisions. Why is it so different when I ask you to compromise something for my sake?”

“It's not the same, Seli! You're asking more of me, with this. You're asking me to just stand aside and let you give him the same affection that you give to me!” He smacked his fist into his palm with painful force, the knuckles white with strain. Selirah rose abruptly and descended the steps with more haste than dignity, taking his hands in hers.

“I love you, and I want to make you happy, but I can't shut him out, Theron... these bonds. They don't go away and leave you unchanged. If we felt nothing for each other, or one of us died, it might break the bond, but it would be like a wound that never heals. An emptiness that can never be filled by anyone else. I didn't ask for this to happen, and I didn't do it to hurt you. I'm just trying to find a path through this that isn't going to cost me your love. So tell me what that looks like, to you. Tell me what you want.”

She looked at him, and he saw suddenly what she must have seen when he asked her to do things and make choices that made no sense to her; things that went against every lesson she'd ever been taught. He could see the desperation in her eyes when she met his gaze, and though he knew she was too proud to plead with him, the pain in her face was so clear that he didn't need the force to feel it washing over him. If he asked Selirah to stay away from Arcann, she might agree to it right now, in this moment, in order to keep him by her side.

But Theron wasn't convinced that wouldn't end up explosively blowing up in his face, and some part of him knew that it absolutely would. “I want you to be happy too, Selirah. I didn't mean to make you wait this long, and I realize how it probably felt to you. I'm sorry for that. I didn't know what to say, and I'm still afraid to say something wrong, or promise something that I can't deliver. But I should have tried before this, for both of us.”

“I understand that, Theron, but at the same time, you have to understand that from where I am standing, this situation is untenable. I need to know if we can find common ground, forgive each other, and move forward. Or if it is not possible to get past the changed circumstances of our relationship at all. I need you to compromise for me. I need you to try to understand my position, and my feelings.” Selirah's gaze was fixed on his, her lavender eyes intent, and she held his hands tightly, as if letting them go would mean letting him go as well. “I don't want to lose you, Theron. I love you, and I have always been happiest when I had you in my life.”

Realizing he'd been holding his breath, Theron bent his head downwards, resting his forehead against hers, feeling the cool metal of the engraved band she wore around the base of her lekku pressed to his skin. She had never said anything like that to him before, had never been so open about her feelings for him as she was being right now. “I love you too, Seli. More than I have the words to say.” His right hand slipped loose from her left, and he lifted it to her cheek, cupping her jaw lightly with his fingers. He could feel the heat of her skin against his, and being so close to her only reminded him of how much he had missed her, and how lonely it was to sleep alone, without her warmth in his arms. It was a painful thought, to imagine her gone forever, to try to picture them apart. “We'll figure this out, somehow. You're right. I rarely have had to see things from your side, and I'm going to try to do it now. Common ground... I think we can try to manage that. We've been through too much together to let this drive us apart.”

Theron could see her smile when it finally touched her lips, slow and hesitant at first as she listened to him, then wider, happier. Selirah leaned up and kissed him, a long, slow kiss that quickly kindled a familiar warmth in them both. “Thank you, Theron. I've missed you so much. I woke up this morning and reached for you, and realized I couldn't bear to keep waking up alone, without you. I just had to talk to you, to try to work things out.” Her right hand, still holding his, tugged him along behind her as she went past him towards the lift. “I haven't slept well in days,” she explained as she started the lift moving downwards towards her chambers.

“So, you want to go to sleep -now-?” Theron asked, bemused by the sudden haste.

“No. I want to take you to bed now and show you how much I've missed you, before I am too tired to stay awake any longer,” she replied slyly, pushing him back against the wall of the lift and kissing him again, far less gently this time. “And -then- I will have a good reason to go to sleep, and so will you.”

“You're full of good ideas today.”

“Every day, Theron. Every day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chopped and redid sections several times, because I kept changing my mind on how I wanted it to go. But this is the version that won, in the end.


	17. Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Theron's little idyll on Zakuul comes to a sudden and abrupt end. Theron commits himself to making more of an effort to compromise, and the rest of the team finds out the extent of the link between Selirah and Arcann.

A few quiet, calm days passed uneventfully enough on Zakuul, with enough progress made that Vette was intended to come to help out with a few of the projects going on so that a return to Odessen could be scheduled within the next week. Lana went up to the restored rooftop garden, searching for Selirah and Theron. Rounding a corner, she stopped, watching for a moment. 

Theron was sitting in a comfortable, masculine sprawl on one of the elegant benches, his booted feet stretched out in front of himself. He had a datapad in one hand, and was reading reports aloud. This in and of itself wasn't unusual, though getting him to go outside and get some fresh air when there was work to be done was sometimes difficult. But Lana could see the reason why he'd chosen to enjoy the garden instead of holing up in the Empress' suite as he had for the last few days; Selirah was seated close to him, her legs tucked up to the side on the bench. She was curled up against his side, with his arm around her shoulders and her head resting on his shoulder. Every now and then she would make a comment, and Theron's distinctive tenor laugh would reach Lana's ear. She felt suddenly as if she should withdraw; that she was clearly intruding upon the former Wrath in an unexpectedly serene moment of domestic tranquility. Soundlessly, Lana retreated back into the Spire, making a mental note to speak to Selirah later when there was a better opportunity. 

The information that she carried could wait for a little while longer. 

Unaware of Lana's brief interruption into their sphere, Selirah closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sound of Theron's voice as he read the most recent updates from Odessen to her. It had been her suggestion that they come out here to the terrace, and though she'd expected to be interrupted before now, it'd been a very pleasant morning. Work was a great deal less tedious when done like this. 

She fell into a half-doze, listening absently, her thoughts drifting lazily. Theron's fingers traced idly over her shoulder and upper arm, the brush of his skin against hers a soothing sensation. She could feel Arcann, distantly. He was focused, and if she let herself reach out to him, she could see little momentary images of what he was seeing. The point of view was his, so it was a little disorienting sometimes to see his arms and hands instead of her own, or a person in front of her that wasn't actually there. Her fingers curled up as if they were around the lightsaber hilt she could see in his hand, and she watched him drilling Sana-Rae's advanced students. Senya had left for Odessen yesterday, and she was paired with her son, guarding his left side as they fought a trio of students together. His mind caressed hers in a brief touch of acknowledgment of her presence, but he kept his attention on the spar. 

Adrenaline surged as a blade passed near his arm, and she felt him push one opponent back while engaging in close, brutal strikes with another. Senya's presence at his back was reassuring, but not like the synergy between the two of them. Selirah smiled briefly at the thought, and felt Arcann's amusement mirroring hers. The student who had been knocked back came in again, striking at his left side as the other crossed blades with him on the right. Senya was there to cover the gap, her saber coming between her son and the student's blade. 

Selirah's touch on Arcann's mind flickered, and she let the connection drift, still in contact, but no longer so tightly that she could see what he was seeing. 

Theron tapped out and sent a brief message to Lana, asking for some clarification on a few points. Selirah hadn't said anything in a little while, and he glanced at her, amused to see that she looked more than half-asleep. She'd wanted a lazy morning, and he'd been glad to oblige her; it turned out that she was right and it really was very enjoyable doing necessary work in more pleasant surroundings, though he privately thought the company was a large part of the draw. Turning his head, he brushed a kiss to her forehead, and her eyelids flickered, opening.

It took him a moment to realize that something was wrong, but as he turned to look at her more fully, Theron saw her pupils dilate suddenly, turning the purple of her irises nearly black. She stiffened in his arms, and threw out a hand in a defensive gesture. Then she cried out as if in pain and folded forward, nearly tumbling off the bench before Theron could grab her. Her eyes still looked blind, as if she was looking at something that he couldn't see, or something far away, and then she simply went limp as he dropped the datapad and picked her up, carrying her inside quickly. 

He nearly ran right into Pierce, who took one look at Selirah's limp form and called for Lana to meet them at her room. “I don't know what happened, she just shouted and collapsed suddenly,” Theron added, exchanging a worried look with Pierce, who ran ahead to open the door so he could bring her inside more easily. Lana arrived moments later, but she seemed less concerned with Selirah herself than with calling Odessen. Vette answered, and while the medic drove Pierce and Theron away from the bed so that she could examine the nearly insensate Selirah, Lana moved into the antechamber to talk to her.

“Lana, things are a little..”

“I know. Where is Arcann?”

“That's what I'm trying to tell you, the medbay.. there was an accident on the training ground, with one of Sana-Rae's students. They're taking care of him, and I don't think it's.. I mean it's clearly -painful-..”

“Midsection, I'm assuming? Did the saber go through or is it a burn?”

“How did you KNOW, Lana? What is going on there?”

“Vette, please focus. Burn or through?”

“Both, sort of.. they're going to have to put him in a tank for a while after they're done treating him and checking the severity of the injury, they're saying now. Senya was frantic when they brought him in. He just collapsed.”

“We'll be there as soon as possible.”

“Okay, but... it's bad but it's not going to be fatal or anything,” Vette answered, sounding confused over the holo. Lana turned the holo, pointing Vette's viewpoint at Selirah's bed where she was doubled over her stomach, and the medic's almost comically confused expression at finding no injury at all to treat. “Ohhh. OH! Wow. That's... hmm. That's actually.. it explains a few things. We'll see you when you arrive. Tell her we're taking care of him.”

“I will, Vette. Thank you.” Lana switched the holo off and came to the side of the bed. “There's nothing that you can do,” she told the medic briskly, “except give her a low level sedative. We'll take it from here.” 

The medic frowned, but obviously knew better than to try to argue with Lana's no-nonsense approach. She injected Selirah, and then left to head back to the medical bay once she was sure the sedative had taken effect, and that she was resting comfortably.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Selirah woke abruptly as the Fury came out of hyperspace, sitting bolt upright in her bed. Theron was next to her, sitting propped up with pillows stacked behind his back, and he took her hand as she sat up, his thumb stroking her palm soothingly. “It's alright, we're nearly there. Vette says he'll recover, just took a lightsaber hit during sparring.” She nodded her comprehension, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes as they focused on his face. “Did you feel it when he was injured? You just doubled over suddenly and nearly passed out. I didn't know what happened.”

“I felt it. It was good that I wasn't with him when it happened, though.. it was bad enough with just the thin connection that is always there. You came with me... I'm glad, Theron.” She looked down at his hand in hers and twined her fingers with his, leaning against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close.

“I told you that I was going to try to understand, Seli. This is part of it, isn't it? Wouldn't be much of a try if I left you alone for this.”

“I'm still glad that you are here with me. I'm not in pain, but I might need you to lean on. He needed my strength and I gave it, but I feel somewhat … less than ideal.” A wry smile curved her lips, and Theron nodded, his free hand cupping her chin lightly. She leaned in and kissed him, a brush of contact, feather-light. 

“You've got me to lean on, any time. Can you feel him now?” 

“He's unconscious.. drugged. I don't want to risk waking him,” she said absently as the Fury dropped slowly, landing with a muted thump of impact. “Let's go.” Theron got up, taking her hand again in his as she came around the bed, her stride a trifle sluggish as she shook off the last effects of the sedative. He stayed by her side, talking in a low tone to her as they made their way into the base. Once they were closer, though, her pace picked up. He could feel a faint tremble in her hand when they reached the medbay, and she barely even seemed to notice Senya or Vette waiting for them. Instead, she went straight past them to the kolto tank where Arcann hung suspended in the liquid, her gaze only for him. 

“The medics did a good job,” Senya said after a moment, watching Selirah where she stood close to the tank, her hand resting on it near his face, as if she could feel him through the transparent barrier. “He's going to need some time to heal, but he'll recover. Now that you're here, I'm going to go get a little rest, Selirah. Let me know if anything changes.” 

Selirah nodded, but didn't even glance back at the other woman. Theron sent Vette for some food, and he pulled over some chairs nearer to the tank, correctly assuming that it would be impossible to pry her away from it until Arcann woke up. She sank down into the nearest chair, but she did finally tear her attention away from his unconscious form, sliding closer to Theron and laying her head down on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, settling her closer to him.

“You can rest too, Seli, if you need to. Especially if he's still pulling anything from you. Is he? I don't really know how all of this works.”

She smiled ruefully, tilting her face slightly so she could meet Theron's eyes. “No, he's not, but I am tired. I gave him as much as I could once I knew what had happened, but once he was unconscious, the draw stopped. It's up to him and the kolto, now.” Her attention turned back to the tank, and Theron saw a brief expression of worry cross her face. “Will you wake me up? If he wakes before I do?”

“Of course,” he answered quietly, his hand stroking her back in slow, rhythmic caresses as her eyes closed. 

When Vette came in to leave a tray with some food and drinks a short time later, Theron was still holding Selirah in his arms, and she was fast asleep. “Compromise, eh?” the little blue Twi'lek commented in a wryly amused, and very quiet, tone, clearly trying to not wake Seli from her rest.

“It's not going to be easy, that's for certain.” Theron carefully pulled one arm free so he could eat a few bites of food while Vette brought a blanket from the storage lockers in the medbay to cover them both.

“Most things aren't, if they're worth having. But she'll be pleased that you stayed here with her and watched over him.”

“He's a lot easier to tolerate when he's unconscious,” Theron replied bitingly, and Vette snorted a laugh as she left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Theron, he's so hot right now. ;) But Arcann IS easier to tolerate when he's unconscious, and he probably won't stay that way.


	18. You Only Live Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Odessen, many things are changing due to Arcann's injury and Selirah's arrival with Theron to oversee his recovery. The fragile peace is maintained, and a large concession is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut, y'all, so if you're shy, look away towards the end!
> 
> ... if you're not shy, then.. enjoy. ;)

Theron was awakened from a doze the following morning by the sound of the medics bustling around the room. They were clearly trying to be as quiet as possible, but even so, he stirred and yawned, adjusting his hold on Selirah. She'd slid nearly completely off of her own chair at some point, and was mostly on his lap. Shifting his grip so that she was comfortably pillowed against his chest, he lifted her and moved out of the way, letting the medics move the chairs. And then he stood there, and held her, while they drained the tank and helped him wash clean of the remaining fluid before dressing him in clean, dry clothing. Arcann was fully alert by this point in the process; he could see the icy blue of his eyes, feel his gaze on the Twi'lek woman in his arms. They moved him to one of the beds, removing tubes and checking his vitals, but Theron waited until the medics had moved away and waved him forward before he woke Selirah.

“Time to open your eyes, Seli,” he told her, giving her a gentle shake and waiting until her lids lifted, her startlingly lavender eyes sleepily focusing on his face. “They took him out of the tank. He's awake, if you want to see him now.” 

He watched her go from half-alert to fully awake in less than a second, and he put her feet down, releasing her from his arms to watch her go straight to Arcann's bedside with the slightest clench of pain in his heart. It seemed like a good time to go and get some rest himself, as he watched her checking the prince over herself, as if the medics were not to be trusted with his well-being. But then there was a tug on his hand as he turned to leave, and she was there again beside him. 

“You need some sleep too, I know. But thank you, Theron, for taking care of me and watching over him. I love you.” She flashed him a quick smile, and kissed him, then let go of his hand. 

He smiled at her, the momentary tightness of jealousy easing. “I love you too.” She was engaged in dragging a chair over to Arcann's bedside, but she stopped and blew him a kiss when she heard his words before she resumed the loud task of scraping the chair across the floor. 

Settling into the chair, Selirah lifted Arcann's hand, pressing the back of it to her cheek. “If you wanted me to come back, you should just have holoed me, keella. You didn't need to go to all this trouble and cause me such fear.”

He gazed at her for a long moment, his blue eyes softening at her words. “Were you afraid? For me? Then it was well worth the pain, because you're here with me, and calling me your darling out loud where others could hear you, even. The talk must have gone well with Theron.” 

“I think so, yes. I tried to make him understand my side. You need to try a little harder to like him, Arcann. You can't goad him and antagonize him, or he will never be able to see the charm that you keep -very- well buried underneath that defensive exterior. I want him to see what I see when I look at you.”

“And what do you see, when you look at me?” he asked, his deep voice sounding amused. His fingers curled around her hand, holding it more firmly. Her lips touched his fingers, entwined between hers, and Selirah laid kisses on each one in turn.

“I see who you were. I see who you are now. I see who you could be in the future. Some only see who you were, but Theron needs to see who you are now, and who you could be. He needs to know that you can be more than a selfish prince who enjoys provoking him. And I need you to try to remember that you put me in the middle of you both when you are hard on him, keella. Please.”

“How can I refuse you anything when you are so eloquent in your requests?”

“Then I have one more. Rest when they tell you that you must, and don't scare me like that again,” Selirah answered fondly. “Senya was frantic as well.. you must let her see that you are alright soon, now that you are awake. Do you want me to go find her?”

His cybernetic hand came to rest atop hers, holding her with both hands, though his grip was gentle. “No. She'll come, or we can send someone else to bring her, but I want you to stay here with me.”

“Then I will stay, of course. Are you in pain?” 

“It hurts, but it's no worse than other injuries I've had. Certainly not worse than this one.” He moved his cybernetic fingers to stroke her skin, sliding them over her wrist and forearm lightly. “Do I get to make a request too?” 

“Ask anything you wish, keella.” Selirah smiled at him, and he chuckled softly.

“I admire the way you do that so charmingly.”

“Do what?”

“Offer the world while holding back from the promise of fulfillment. I can ask anything, but I may not actually end up receiving anything.”

Selirah rolled her eyes, laughing at him. “You want me to promise I will do something before I've even heard it. I am not such a fool as that, Arcann. You can ask. If I can give you what you want, then I will, but I will not make a promise to you that I might have to break. You shouldn't want me to, either.”

“Of course not, but even so.. it's very clever of you.” 

“Are you going to ask, or not? I'm just trying to plan my day here...”

“Very funny. When they release me from here, I don't want to go back to my bunk, alone, while Theron sleeps next to you. Why should he have privileges that I am not given, Seli? I want to be with you too, and wake up with you. I want everyone to know that I am good enough for you, even if I am not good enough for them give me a chance to prove myself.”

Selirah bit her lower lip, chewing it uneasily as she listened, sensing the hurt hidden under the calmly logical delivery. “That is... a large thing to ask. It's not unfair, or unreasonable,” she added, holding up her free hand to forestall his argument as he drew breath to speak. “I hadn't thought about.. those kind of logistics. I only wanted to head off the idea that I would accept giving you up as an option.” 

Arcann's eyes widened briefly in surprise and pleasure at her final statement, then an amused smile touched his lips, curving the corners upwards slightly. “You're right, it's a lot to ask. But just tell me that you'll consider it, and perhaps see what he thinks. I am willing to share your heart.. he was in it first, and I know I cannot displace him. But I don't want to be second best either, just because I was second to know you.” 

She shook her head, rising to sit on the edge of his bed, her left hand tucked gently into his right, and her right hand touching his face, cupping his scarred jaw with a light, warm touch. “No one could ever see you as second best, in any way, keella. Least of all me. I value you, never doubt that. And I will talk to him, but he may not be quite ready to think about sharing that much intimacy with you, even if it is just your wish to be near me.” Bending to kiss him, Selirah closed her eyes as he wrapped his left arm around her gently, keeping her pressed against him so that she couldn't withdraw again. “We must be patient with each other. Navigating this is not going to be simple for any of us.”

He chuckled softly, kissing her several times in a row, his emotions open to her without reservation. “Ever the canny politician, Seli, counseling me to patience as you no doubt counseled Theron to the same. I suspect you are handling us both quite deftly. Very well, we will try it your way. For now.” She let herself entwine with him through their bond, everything else around them in the noisy base dampening into background noise that she could easily ignore. 

When Theron and Senya came to the door of the medbay a few hours later, Arcann was asleep, and Selirah nearly so. They were both in the bed, her head pillowed on his chest, and his cybernetic arm wrapped around her back, beneath her lekku. Her arm was twined lightly over his chest above his healing midsection, her hand held in his, but her eyes were half-open, and she smiled at the sight of Theron. “Have you come to take me away, then?” she asked, sliding out from the prince's hold lithely and down to the floor. “He will be happy to see you, Senya. And I am grateful for your quick action when he was injured. It surely saved his life.”

Senya gave Selirah one of her rare, warm smiles, settling down in the chair beside her son's bed to wait for him to awaken from his rest. “I'll tell him that you've gone back to your work, when he wakes. Come to see him later, when you have a chance.. I've no doubt he'd get up to look for you himself, otherwise, no matter what I say to him.”

“Tell him I'll be back as soon as possible, and that he's not to get up from there till the medics say that he is allowed, and that's an order.” 

Senya chuckled, leaning in to straighten his blankets, and as Theron and Selirah left the room, they could hear her humming a song softly over her sleeping son.

As they made their way through the base, heading for her room so she could clean up and change clothes, Theron glanced sidelong at the Twi'lek as she kept pace with him. “You're quiet. What did he say to you?” he asked after a moment. 

“It's... I'm not sure how to talk about it. This is complicated for me too, you know. I don't know how to work between two people's expectations, and I'm not used to having to care what other people want. I miss being able to just tell people what to do! They were always too afraid to say no to me, back then,” she answered in a frustrated tone, and Theron caught the laugh just before it escaped, knowing Selirah wouldn't find his amusement nearly as funny right now. “I know you don't like how things worked in the Empire, but -I- did.”

A little snort of laughter -did- escape Theron at that point, and she glared at him furiously. “I'm sorry, love. I know you weren't being funny,” he managed, still struggling to hold in his mirth.

“Of -course- I wasn't! This is needlessly complex! I should just let you both work it out however you would like.”

“I'm not sure that you'd like the outcome of that, no matter how it ended up going. Obviously, if I put a blaster bolt in Arcann now, I may as well shoot you too. Unfortunately, there's no similar stricture to stop him from slamming me up against walls or out an airlock or running me through with a saber, because it wouldn't affect you physically at all,” Theron pointed out, still looking a little too amused by the entire situation for Selirah's taste.

She whacked his arm with her hand, and he started to laugh aloud finally. “It's not funny, Theron!”

“Come on, it's a -little- bit funny.”

Rolling her eyes, she smacked his arm again, stalking into her room like an angry nexu, practically bristling with her irritation. “You're an idiot. Both of you are idiots. And I'm apparently attracted to idiots, so I'm not sure that I'm much better,” Selirah growled, peeling her clothes off and dropping them like a trail up to the bed. 

Theron followed behind, still chuckling, picking up the discarded clothes after closing the door behind them. She was standing naked in front of her storage locker when he came up the stairs, and he came up behind her, putting her discarded clothing on the floor to the side of the open locker doors. His arms slipped around her, one hand stroking over her stomach, and the other moving up to cup her breast, thumb flicking teasingly over her nipple. Selirah leaned back into his arms, the momentary anger forgotten as quickly as it had appeared, her eyes drifting half-closed while his hands began to rouse a better form of passion from her instead. 

Her hands deftly slid between his body and hers, unfastening his belt and pushing his pants down impatiently. She could hear him laugh as he left her alone long enough to take off his boots and remove the offending pants as well, his jacket hitting the floor a moment later as she sank down on the bed, watching him strip his shirt off over his head. Her eyes followed the line of his shirt sliding up over his firmly muscled chest with obvious pleasure, devouring every inch of him with her gaze the way she did every time. As if every time was the very first time she'd seen him; Theron loved that look in her eyes, the heat and the desire. 

But for the first time, as he watched her hand move down over her breasts, to the line of her stomach, then between her thighs to make an imperiously beckoning motion with one slim, red-skinned finger, Theron had a brief moment where he wondered if she gave the same look to Arcann, or how it would be if the other man was here in bed with them. The stab of jealousy wasn't surprising; he'd expected the sensation. But the equally sudden shiver of lust at the image in his mind.. that was a lot less expected. Kneeling in front of her, Theron slid her legs apart, his fingers delving between her thighs first, to stroke against the sensitive folds hidden in her core. He watched the desire in her eyes, and the way her head fell back as he slid his fingers inside her. Heard the soft, breathless gasp of pleasure that escaped her lips when his mouth replaced his fingers, and the way her breathing got increasingly ragged in time with the rhythm of his tongue, the the light graze of his teeth against her, until she arched up against him, shuddering her release into his mouth.

Theron moved up onto the bed, one knee between her thighs, and moved his hands up under her arms, lifting her limp, sated body and sliding her up the bed. She didn't resist at all, playing dead weight in his grip and full of lassitude from her climax, but he saw the smile curving her lips and laughed, bending to kiss her neck, rolling her onto her side as he moved behind her. One hand slid down over her sleek thigh, guiding her leg to bend at the knee, pushing it gently forward as his hips rocked to press slowly against her from behind. Her fingers, warm and soft, closed around his cock, stroking him teasingly until she'd forced a groan from his lips at the sensation. 

She leaned back against his chest, her lekku laying over her shoulders but the feeling of the sensitive appendages brushing against his skin was enough to rouse her as much, or more, than his efforts had done, he knew. Her hand guided him into her, and he brought a hand to her hip, holding her close as he thrust into her with deliberately slow, short motions of his hips. She arched her back, her hips rocking backwards eagerly, but Theron kept the pace slow and lazy, winding his free hand around her throat, stroking the silky skin, bending to lay a kiss there that made her shiver. “Seli.. “ 

“Mmm.”

“Tell me what you were going to tell me earlier.”

Selirah shot him a disbelieving look over her shoulder, and he responded with a deeper, rougher thrust that made her moan, a throttled sound of pleasure. “Tell me, Seli,” he repeated, and she dug her hand into the sheets, balling them up in her fist before she managed to put the words together to respond. 

“He wants to sleep here, with me. With us. He said that he didn't want to be second best. You don't have to say yes, Theron. I told him to be patient, and he said that he would.” She closed her eyes, losing the ability to say anything further as he pressed deeper into her, rolling her onto her stomach with his grip on her hip, her thighs spread under him as he drove into her from behind with a harder, faster rhythm, forcing soft cries and gasps from her at the apex of each deep stroke. 

Closing his eyes too, Theron lost himself in her, but the thought still stayed with him, turning into an increasingly salacious series of images in his mind that only served to drive his passion to build even more rapidly. He could hear her cry out his name under him in her pleasure, her second climax rushing powerfully through her, making her tighten around him until he couldn't bear to hold himself back even for a moment longer and spilled hotly into her in long, shuddering spurts as his release washed over him. 

Only once they were both sprawled together on the bed, hearts slowing to normal again and breath slowly doing the same, did Theron return to the subject of a few minutes ago. One hand idly stroking her back as he lay beside her, he leaned closer to kiss her, and she opened her eyes lazily, her lips curving into a smile. “Tell him yes, Seli,” he said softly, his mouth barely a breath away from hers where he had the amusing view of seeing her eyes fly open in surprise. 

“Are you sure, Theron? Here with us?” she asked, cautiously. 

“I'm sure. If I can't handle it, I guess we'll find out pretty quickly that way, hmm?” 

She blinked at him, but nodded after a moment. “I.. yes, I suppose so. If you're sure, then I'll tell him when I go back to the medbay to check on him. He'll be pleased.” Pausing for a moment to just look at Theron, she kissed him again, the startled look in her eyes finally replaced by a softer, more tender expression, one that he loved to see on her face. There was trust in it, and a level of happiness that he hoped they could maintain together in the years to come, no matter what their relationship looked like. “I love you, Theron.”

He smiled at her, a gleam of humor in his hazel eyes. “I know.”


	19. Chinks In The Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah, Theron, and Arcann navigate their new situation, and Selirah wears herself out trying to make everything work, and ends up missing the first night entirely. Theron sees a little more of Arcann in the process.

The room was a hive of activity, and Theron could see Selirah directing all the activity from her perch standing on a table in the middle of the room. Z0-0M and HK were engaged in taking the heavier things out and hauling other items in, and 2V and C2 were busily cleaning and organizing. “NOT there, 2V! My gear goes in the middle locker!” she snapped, pointing irritably. “If I find Theron's pants mixed in with mine, I'll dismantle you!”

“She doesn't mean it, 2V,” Theron called reassuringly from the doorway, which was as close as he was willing to get to the scene of total chaos inside their quarters. Selirah shot him a sour look, but didn't argue the point, instead directing HK where to set a chair near the existing seating. “Almost done here, Seli?”

Offering a final threatening stare at poor 2V, who quailed visibly and hastily began rechecking the contents of her storage to be sure he hadn't put anything in the wrong spot, Selirah stepped down from the table. “Finish up in here while I'm away,” she ordered, but as Theron fixed her with an easily interpreted 'be nice' look, added sullenly, “Thank you for your assistance, all of you.” 

Theron laughed and beckoned her out the door, backing out and waiting for her in the hallway. “Come on. They'll finish a lot more quickly without you looming over them. Literally. You were literally looming. I'm amazed 2V didn't lose control of his hydraulic fluid.”

Rolling her eyes, Selirah fell in beside him as he led her through the base and up to the topside cantina. “If you think getting me drunk will save that droid if he hasn't done -exactly- what I told him to do, you are woefully mistaken.” She glanced at him, a sidelong, amused look. “But very handsome. Anything I need to see in your reports today, or are we currently emergency free for at least the next ten minutes or so?”

“Everything's taken care of for now. Nothing more than the usual, and we have people deployed for the issues that required a response. So we're going to have a drink, and you're going to unwind and let the droids finish their work, and put your feet up.”

“With you? Because that's just about the best idea I've heard all day, and you know I'm a veritable font of amazing ideas so that's saying something,” she replied teasingly, already looking a lot less irritated than she was when he first arrived in their chambers to find her.

Theron stopped at the bar to order some drinks and snacks to one of the side rooms, then he led her back, adding at the last second before she stepped up into the semi-private space, “Not just with me, love.” His hand at the small of her back gently pushed her forward when she tried to balk in the doorway, clearly expecting some kind of tedious work-related forced meeting that he was just trying to sweeten with the offer of drinks. 

Inside, the small room was furnished with a comfortable, curved couch, and a wide table, both lit from above by a small fixture with soft lighting. Theron sidled in alongside Selirah, an amused smile curving his lips as she saw Arcann waiting on one end of the couch, an untouched drink on the table in front of him. Her expression lit up instantly, and she elbowed Theron lightly, in response to which he gave an obliging grunt. “I don't like surprises, Theron. But this is a nice one.” She seized Theron's hand and pulled him with her around the table, sitting down next to Arcann and leaving Theron to settle on his own on her other side. A droid arrived with the food and drinks, and set them down on the table before disappearing back out the door almost as quickly so as to leave them undisturbed.

“We're not here to have some kind of … talk, are we?” Selirah asked, wrinkling her nose briefly as she poured a drink. “I'm starting to feel almost like I've been subtly led into a deceptively charming ambush.”

Theron sat down on the couch, one booted foot resting on the opposite knee. “I think you can agree that we might need to talk at least a little bit, Seli. It's not an ambush, just chance to maybe avoid some misunderstandings.” 

“And you agree that we should lay some ground rules too?” Turning to face Arcann, she lifted her glass in a mocking toast, and takes a drink, eyeing him curiously. “Do we need them? We can just deal with any issues as they arise, I'd think.”

Arcann didn't quite smile, but she could feel his amusement nevertheless, as well as the intimate brush of his presence in the bond. He felt pleased, and anticipatory; but she could feel a little uncertainty as well from him. “I don't suppose it would hurt, even if they are obvious things. I can assume, for instance, that Theron would prefer that I refrain from seducing you right next to him.” His pale blue eyes moved to regard the other man levelly for a moment. “Unless he likes to watch, in which case.. I'd be more than happy to oblige him. I'm not shy.”

Theron rolled his eyes, but when Selirah glanced at him, she was a little startled to note the bright rush of color in his cheeks. “No, I do not want to watch, Arcann. But thank you for making my point for me. If we're going to all be together in one space, we're going to have to try to not step too often on each other's toes.” 

Selirah leaned back against Arcann's shoulder, resting her head against him and drawing her lekku forward over her shoulders, her glass held in one hand. She propped her legs up across Theron's lap, her lips curved into a faint smile as she watched him slide a little closer so he could rest his hand on her thigh, fingers stroking lightly over her leg above the edge of her boot. Arcann's right hand slid up over her stomach, holding her lightly against his side. “Theron is right. It's fair to want to be given a little space for privacy at times. But I'd also like for you both to make an effort to get more comfortable with each other, for my sake if nothing else. I care for both of you, and I don't want you ignoring each other or sniping at each other.”

“I think it's obvious that -I'm- willing to compromise somewhat. Otherwise, we wouldn't even be having this discussion right now,” Theron pointed out, leaning forward to pick up the plate of delicacies the droid had left for them. He balanced it on her shins, selecting a piece of sweet fruit diced into cubes, a laugh escaping him as he saw Seli open her mouth expectantly. He popped it into her mouth, and she grinned at him unrepentantly as he took another one for himself. “Selirah and I have the advantage of already being accustomed to living with each other, so we'll have to be good about talking to each other if something is wrong while we get used to having you with us, Arcann.” 

“You're not an 'us' anymore, Theron. Not one of just you and her together, and me on the outside,” Arcann bristled, his deep voice holding a note of irritation. Selirah laid her hand lightly over his on her stomach in a soothing gesture, her skin warm against his fingers as she felt a low hum of jealousy singing through their connection to each other. “We, all three of us, are 'us'. She cares for me too, not just you.” 

Theron frowned, watching Selirah's expression, but she didn't say anything, merely looked back at him blandly, obviously not intending to help. His eyes met Arcann's, the other man's blue eyes challenging him, but he tried to look past the obvious and obnoxious attitude. If he was defensive, maybe he was right, and Theron had been treating him more like an unwanted interloper than an actual part of their relationship. “You're right, Arcann. I apologize,” he admitted. “That wasn't my intention, and I shouldn't have implied that I wasn't including you.” He saw a look of surprise cross the prince's face, and then saw a small smile touch Seli's lips before she blew Theron a sly little kiss with her fingertips. 

“... Thank you, Theron.” 

Arcann sounded as if he begrudged having to say the words, but there was no mistaking the look of relief in his eyes. For the first time, Theron began to see a little of what Selirah had been saying to him about Arcann's hurt about his lack of acceptance, and his loneliness among the Alliance. Seen through a different lens, a lot of his defiance and defensiveness was more understandable, and worthy of some patience. And given Selirah's particular background, it'd probably been a lot easier for her to understand the pain of suddenly realizing how much people hated him for the things he'd done. 

“Anyway, I think it's good to have some of this out in the open, now. I'm going to go get back to work, so I can get to bed at a decent time tonight. I have a few reports to send you for review, Seli.” He set the plate back on the table, and Selirah lifted her legs off his lap, bending her knees and setting her feet on the couch to let Theron get up from the couch. He bent over her, his eyes briefly meeting Arcann's gaze as he kissed her, and once again, Selirah saw a faint flush of color come to the agent's cheeks that seemed to be caused more by Arcann than her. “See you both later.” 

“I'll check them as soon as you send them to me, Theron,” she responded, stretching her legs back out and picking up a few pieces of fruit from the plate. Arcann wrapped both arms around her, his hands tracing idle circles on her skin, and accepted a piece of fruit from her fingers when she offered it, smiling down at her lazily supine form.

“You look like a proper idle Empress, lazing here with me instead of working,” he teased, laying a kiss on the top of her head and watching her lick the sweet fruit juice from her fingers. 

“I've earned a -lot- of idleness, I assure you. It was far from an easy road to get here. I had this -really- stubborn adversary...”

“Really? Tell me about him.”

“Not much to tell. He was so much weaker than me, and not nearly as stylish, and he had -no- sense of humor, and..” She made an undignified squeal when he pinched her side in mock indignation, laughing and slapping his hand away. “Ouch! Fine, fine. He was incredibly impressive, and determined, and I thought he had some redeeming qualities until he threw me in carbonite for five years, which I think we can both agree was -rude-. But then we found some common ground and ended up on the same side, and now he's moving in with me and Theron, and ...” 

He tugged her fully up onto his lap so that he could look into her face, his eyes meeting hers as she smiled, twining one arm around his shoulders. “And? Are you happy about it, or worried, Seli? It's a lot of change for all of us.” Her lips tasted sweet when Arcann kissed her, like fruit and wine, and he made a soft, appreciative growl in his throat at the flavor. 

“Both, I suppose. I'm happy about it, very much. And I'm very grateful that Theron loves me enough to give you a chance, and I hope you will try to get to know him too, keella. I'm worried that it will prove too difficult for Theron, or for you.” Seli bit her lower lip, chewing it lightly for a moment before she asked, “What do you think of Theron?”

Arcann shrugged his broad shoulders, the motion slight and dismissive, though his response was considered. “What should I think of him? I understand his value to the Alliance, and his skills are impressive. He's clever, and he has courage. He saw what you could be even though you were his enemy, and that's not a small thing. There is plenty to admire about him, as a person.”

“What do you think of -him-, keella? Not of his abilities or his job or his background, just.. him.”

He looked at her curiously, then smiled a small, lopsided expression. “You want to know if I saw his blushes. Of course I did, Seli, just like you did. Shouldn't you be asking Theron what he thinks of -me-?” Her jaw tensed briefly, and Arcann arched his brows, looking a little surprised. “You didn't know this about your spy.”

Selirah tightened down on the bond so abruptly that he almost winced at the sudden withdrawal. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“You brought it up. You don't get to tell me to be quiet just because you don't like the direction that the conversation took. Don't shut me out, Seli. I don't think you would ever have to worry that he'd like me better than you, if that's what you're thinking.” He smiled dryly. “No one likes me better than you except Senya, and that's probably just biology overwhelming her good sense.”

“I'm not.. it's not that. But.. you're right, I didn't know. And that bothers me.”

“Because he didn't tell you, or because you don't want him to be attracted to me as well as you? Is this about trust, or jealousy? Or possessiveness.. which, I'd like to add, you enjoy telling me that -I- shouldn't feel.”

Her expression was venomous, but after a moment, Selirah sighed, resting her forehead against his lightly, the metal of her headband cool against his skin. “I suppose I feel a little possessive of you. It's too new, being able to actually be openly with you and not hiding it. I'm not quite ready to share you completely, even though I know that I want us all to have some kind of relationship together, even you and him. I'm -not- saying that I expect you to want him the way I do. I just.. would like for you to at least be able to be friends, and have some fondness for each other. And I trust Theron. If he wants to tell me anything he's thinking about you, he will when he is ready.” She kissed him, then pulled back enough to look at him, her eyes thoughtful. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?” He laughed, shaking his head. “I'm not sure which part of that I'm supposed to be answering. Do I want him? Do I want to be friends with him? Do I feel possessive of you? No, I don't. I'm not sure but.. I'm willing to give it a try. And you know that I do,” he answered each question promptly in order, his blue eyes gleaming with his amusement. “Maybe I'll change my mind, later. But I'm not very prone to instant attractions, usually. It takes me a while to get comfortable with people, as you've well noticed by now.”

“I can't begin to blame him for noticing you, keella. You are well worth admiring.” Selirah stretched lazily, and unwound his arms from around her, swinging her feet to the floor. “Let's go and see if they've finished the room, yet. I had a more suitably sized bed brought in, so someone isn't always ending up on the floor. And by someone, I mean one of you two, since I'm pretty sure I'm going to be sleeping in the middle anyway. You might as well know this now.. I like to take up more than my share of space in bed.”

Arcann chuckled at the warning. “I will keep it in mind when you shove me out of bed in the middle of the night.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Theron keyed the door closed behind him with one hand, leaning against it and rubbing his eyes tiredly. It'd been a later night than he'd wanted it to be; it hadn't been his intention to make it feel to Selirah that he was trying to avoid this first night. But he'd had more work to do than he'd anticipated, and now it was hours past when he'd thought he'd get to bed. 

“She's asleep.” Arcann's deep voice rumbled softly in the dimly lit room, and Theron looked up in surprise, finally noticing the other man lounging on the couch, a datapad resting on his knee. “She finished going through the reports, but fell asleep before she sent them. So I sent them to you for her.. you'll have them when you wake up, unless you'd rather go through them now.”

“No, I'm too tired. I'll have a look in the morning. Thanks for getting them to me, though.. I didn't mean to be this late,” Theron replied apologetically, one hand rubbing over his tired eyes and through his hair. He kicked off his boots and walked up the stairs, taking off his jacket and stripping down to change into a pair of soft shorts for bed. Selirah's body temperature was so high naturally that wearing much more than that always made him feel like he was suffocating or sweating to death by morning, and so he'd learned to keep it to the bare minimum for comfort. 

When he turned back around, Arcann was coming up the stairs. He peeled off the light shirt he was wearing, sliding it off over his head. Theron looked; in his defense, it was hard not to see someone who was right in front of you, even when the light was merely ambient and emanating from the stair lights and a few small wall lights near the door. The wound he'd sustained days earlier looked good, nearly healed. The skin was pink and tender-looking, but there was no redness or bruising around it. His gaze moved up over the other man's firmly muscled chest to meet a pair of slyly amused ice-blue eyes. Theron could feel his face instantly grow hot, and he hastily said, “Looks like you're healing up well.”

Arcann merely looked at him, his eyes flickering briefly over Theron's body in return in a considering manner. “Seli took my place, drilling the students, but I should be able to get back to it soon,” he said mildly. “If you don't mind, I'll take this side.” For a moment, a belligerent expression crossed his face, and Theron half-expected him to say something rude when the prince began to speak again a moment later. “I don't want her to have to sleep against this side of me.” He spread his cybernetic fingers in illustration, his jaw set defensively, as if he thought that Theron was going to argue with him about it. 

“I don't mind.” Crossing past him, Theron kept his eyes to himself this time, mindful of his still fiery cheeks. “We'll probably have to move her.” He slid the covers back slightly, and true to form, Selirah was sprawled across the entire bed. Arcann chuckled, bending help Theron straighten her arms and legs and move her more towards the middle. She made an irritable noise, but didn't wake up when they got into bed, just laid her cheek on Arcann's shoulder as he put his arm around her. 

Theron rolled onto his side, stroking a hand lightly over her warm hip, and closed his eyes. But it was a while before sleep came to him while he lay there, keenly aware of Arcann's presence only a short distance away.


	20. Violent Delights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron, Arcann, and Selirah make a trip to Zakuul, and Arcann and Selirah have a night out spent eliminating the scourge of Breaktown with extreme prejudice. Blowing off some steam, Sith-style, leads to other passions in some very inappropriate locations, and a realization for Seli.

The flickering lights overhead barely made a difference in the visibility on the winding streets of Breaktown, in the Old World. Piles of debris lay scattered amid the unfettered growth of weeds and moss, and the glow of neon graffiti marked the walls, claiming the area for the Heralds of Zildrog. Rusty industrial barrels stuffed with trash burned in alleyways, used as heat sources by the struggling residents of the dilapidated streets and buildings.

Hooded and cloaked, a pair of figures walked down the center of the street, the smaller framed one followed closely by the taller, broader one. They didn't speak to each other, or to anyone else, and other than incurious glances by the denizens of Breaktown, no one seemed to want to accost them as they turned into the streets that bordered the Razor. A pair of Heralds stepped out of a dark alley as the pair passed, moving to array themselves across the path they'd just come down, and the pair stopped at exactly the same time when another three Heralds appeared in front of them, blocking the way forward. 

“You don't belong here, strangers. This is our territory.” Bulky and heavily armored, the lead Herald spoke with authority, his face hidden behind a mask. “And if you'd like to leave alive, you had best hope that you have something of value on you to offer as tribute to the great serpent, and to his prophet, the Exalted.”

Both pairs of hooded heads turned at the same moment to look at each other, and the motion caught enough light to reveal a pair of red-skinned lekku emerging from the darkness of the hood on the smaller figure's cloak. “We have a different proposal for you,” she said in a low, amused tone flavored with a clipped Imperial accent. “We will kill you, and all of your compatriots. Then we'll keep killing until we get bored, or run out of Heralds. We will also kill the Exalted, but I think we'll save him until the very last.” 

The Heralds looked at each other briefly in confusion, but the leader spoke up again, chuckling in a metallic, augmented voice behind his mask. “It may have escaped your notice, girl, but you are outnumbered, and in our territory. You don't make offers here. But maybe we'll just kill your friend there, and keep you alive for a while. How does that sound?”

“Unlikely to be even mildly satisfying for me,” she replied sweetly. Her lighsaber ignited with a hiss, followed by the gold saber of her companion a moment later. “You don't look like you have very much skill with.. any kind of blade at all, if I'm completely honest.” She turned her back on him, and looked up into her companion's face. Her hood slid back with the tilt of her head, and her tattoo-marked lekku and distinctive face came into view of the flickering lights. 

The Heralds hefted their own weapons, sabers and vibroblades igniting, a blaster pistol or two in the mix, but by the time the weapons were lifted, the pair was already in motion, turning away from each other and moving with force-augmented speed. Arcann's pair of targets barely had time to figure out where he was before they were cut down by the gold blade of his saber. Selirah cut the legs out from under her first target, then the arms off the second on her backstroke as she ducked under his openly telegraphed and clumsy attack. Dancing backwards to avoid a lumbering swing from the massive leader's blade, she laughed aloud and spun away from him, her blade humming in a purple arc. She led him in a circle, only letting him get close enough for her to deliver stinging, flesh-singeing burns with her blade to his arms and legs, provoking him into a rage. 

Roaring, the Herald charged her, and she jumped into the air, flipping lithely past him and skewering his shoulder viciously with her blade on her way past. Withdrawing it with a downwards twist, Selirah watched him stumble, going down to one knee as the agony hit, his blade dropping from suddenly nerveless fingers. Her gloved hand wrapped around his throat from behind, fingers squeezing with surprising force, throttling his breathing painfully. “I do so hope there are a lot more of you out here,” she said in a low whisper near his ear. “Can you hear your armless friend sobbing over there? Oh, how I've missed that sound. But tonight, I will do what I want to do, to all of you, and no one will care.” Deactivating her blade, she pressed the still-warm hilt against his lower back. “Because I am your Empress, and you serve no purpose in -my- empire. There will be no deals with me, ever.” The blade ignited with a growl, burrowing straight through the Herald's gut and emerging from the other side. She twisted it sideways in a half circle, her eyes closed, listening to the man howl in agony as she burned his insides to ash, then jerked it free. Releasing his throat, she kicked him forward off her blade and onto the ground, the hot, burned smell of flesh rising on the air. 

Dying, the Herald watched through fading eyes as the man he now recognized as the prince and the new Empress finished off the rest of his men, the purple blade flashing in tandem with the gold with disturbingly perfect synchronicity. She came back to him again at the last, a smile on her beautiful, alien features as she bent and picked up his communicator, pressing the button and holding it up to her companion, letting him call for reinforcements as if he were one of the Heralds writhing on the ground. 

Selirah found a section of wall that was relatively clean, and perched on it, her heavy cloak enveloping her black-clad body and making her blend into the darkness of the narrow street. Arcann pulled her hood back up, lightly shifting her lekku forward over her shoulders as he settled the folds of fabric to conceal her face. Their bond was wide-open, and both of them were deep in the strong shared current of the link, feeling each other as if they were one person with two bodies. It made for a strange, surreal experience of the world, and when he bent to kiss her, she wasn't sure if she was kissing him, or if he was kissing her, but neither of them cared enough to stop until they heard footsteps in the dark and the first curses from a patrol of Heralds who'd come to investigate. They broke apart, hearts pounding in unison, the anticipation of the fight to come almost as exciting as the arousal stirring both of them. 

Arcann could feel Selirah's pleasure pumping through his mind, her excitement and the throb of vicious anticipation as she ignited her saber. He knelt in front of her, his hands cupped together, and she stepped with one booted foot into his hands so he could toss her towards the crowd of black armored Heralds gathering around the massacred remains of their brethren. She landed in the midst of the group in a blur of saber strikes, flashing among them to the accompaniment of shouts and screams. Her laughter drew him in, and he felt her enjoyment augmenting his own as he joined her in the wanton destruction. They swept through the Razor, leaving a trail of bodies behind, dying and dead, decimating the ranks of the Heralds until they reached the domain of the Exalted himself. 

He could feel that she knew the man in front of them, a young man clad in the Herald's raiments and with a shock of white-blonde hair cut in an artfully careless style around his face. The name Brennen came into his thoughts, and he saw the look of recognition on the man's face as he looked at Selirah. He also saw, and felt, Brennen's fear at the predatory gleam in her eyes, and the way his fear spiked when she seized him by the throat through the force, lifting him off his feet and holding him there, watching him choke and struggle, his feet kicking, face reddening. Resting his hand on her shoulder, Arcann stood close to her as she twisted her hand sharply, snapping the Exalted's neck with a loud crack, dropping him to the ground. 

The battle madness was still glowing in her eyes when she turned around to face him, but he pulled her away from the corpses strewn around the room, picking her up bodily in his arms. She kissed him aggressively, her rage shifting hotly into desire now that there were no more enemies to fight, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he slammed her back against the wall roughly, his hands guiding her legs around his waist. Her hips ground against his wantonly, her lips parted against his mouth, and through the haze of their mutual desire, neither of them heard the comm chirping at first. But the insistent chime rang out again and again until she slapped the switch to answer it, snarling, “What do you want!?”

There was a pause, and then Lana's voice came over the device. “I assume you are both.. operational, then? You hadn't updated us on the status of the Heralds and it'd been some time.”

“Dead.”

“.... all of them?” She sounded a little incredulous, and Arcann saw Selirah's expression darken ominously, the flavor of her emotions still heavily clouded with dark, violent thoughts. He stroked his hands up her thighs to her hips, leaning against her firmly, his teeth closing on the side of her throat, biting her sharply before whispering to her, careful to keep his words below the threshold for the sensitivity of the activated comm. Her breathing caught briefly, and he could feel her shake her head, but her anger flickered away again, replaced by the safer emotion of simple frustration. 

“All of them, Lana. Every last one. Even the Exalted. Is that all? I'm a little busy.”

“Oh. Certainly. My apologies, Empress. We'll see you back on Odessen when you return.” 

“Mmhm.” The switch was clicked with eloquent finality, and she closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. “I'd rather NOT wait till we get back to the Spire, keella,” Selirah said aloud in response to his whispered words. 

“Theron is there waiting for us to get back, Seli.. that's all I was thinking.”

“That doesn't do me very much good, unless you've decided that you actually are attracted to him. Is that the case?” she asked tartly. 

He laughed, and shrugged. “With your emotions singing through me like this, I think I could do a great many things, but it would probably be artificial desire; yours bleeding over onto me. Somehow, I don't think Theron would appreciate that very much. I am sure he would rather be wanted for himself.”

“Then stop distracting me.” She squirmed free of his hands, peeling her boots off, indifferent to the state of the floors in the crumbling building. Her pants came next, and she dropped them to the floor, kneeling on top of them to slide Arcann's pants down over his hips. His hands went to the wall behind her, fingers spreading, palms pressed against it for support when her mouth closed around him, demanding and hot. She drew him deep into her mouth, tongue stroking the underside of his cock, and he groaned, his hips pushing forward helplessly at the sensation. Moving with slow, deliberate strokes, her mouth gliding wetly over him, Selirah held his hips still, forcing him to just accept her pace. The flick of her tongue against the tip of his shaft brought another strangled sound of pleasure from him, and he could feel her smile as she withdrew her mouth, licking her lips as he looked down at her. 

She took his hand, his metal fingers cool to the touch but warming quickly from her own body heat. Arcann drew her to her feet, his free hand curving around the nape of her neck, just beneath the edge of her lekku. He looked into her eyes, and she felt a smile touch her lips at the brush of his thoughts and emotions, sensing everything that he felt when he looked at her, touched her. Desire was foremost right now, but she could feel his pleasure in her company, and the way she made him laugh sometimes even at himself. And there, twined through all of his thoughts was something; not new, but newly realized, or newly accepted. He was in love with her, but she could see his wariness at telling her, afraid that she would retreat from it, and him, the way she had with Theron's declaration.

Selirah leaned up on her toes to kiss him, her eyes closing as she leaned against him, feeling him wrap his other arm around her waist and lift her lightly off her feet, letting her put them over his boots to keep her feet more safe from the dirty floor. She laughed, bringing her hands up to cup his face, her fingers tracing lightly over the scars that marked his skin, letting him feel how much she enjoyed touching him, and feeling his arms holding her securely. He walked her backwards, her feet still balanced on his, and laid her back on the low counter. 

It was amusing to him, when he thought about it, that the most romantic she had been was here, in this abandoned building, filled with people they'd just killed together. All the violence had been transmuted into the soft way she was looking at him now, and he could feel her hands drawing him down over her, her lips seeking his as her legs wrapped around his hips. Arcann let her pull him close, kissing her softly, enjoying the mingled thoughts and emotions that left them so bound together that every touch felt much more intense. His hand guided his cock into her, her hips arching to take him inside even as his thrust forward in a long, slow stroke, joining their bodies together along with the blindingly intimate link binding their minds. 

Her hands stroked the line of his jaw, his throat, the scars that cut through his short-cropped hair, and he closed his eyes, feeling their mingled pleasure like a rush of sensation through his body with each languorous thrust of his hips. They stayed like that, moving together in a lazy haze of desire and arousal, looking into each other's eyes, until she felt Arcann tensing against her, his back tightening under her calves, muscles flexing tautly. His climax hit him with her still locked into his emotions, and she arched up under him, reaching her own release at nearly the same moment, driven over the edge by the sensation of his in her mind. She heard him gasp, and felt him coming, his hips tightly sealed against hers, and she shuddered in pleasure, her lips parting on a breathless groan against his scarred ear that turned into words. “Afa eskaa’lia tun, keella.”

He could see the words in her thoughts, fleetingly, and briefly, their meaning as clear to him as if she'd spoken Basic instead of her native tongue. Taking a slow breath for courage, he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up against him as he sat up on the edge of the counter, settling her across his legs after awkwardly tugging his pants more or less back into place. “Let me take you out of here now... we can get cleaned up, and be back with Theron in time for some sleep before we go back to Odessen. And Seli? I love you too.” She nodded, a smile curving her lips at his last words, and he set her back on the counter, fetching her pants and boots for her, and the gloves she'd tucked into the boots, helping her dress before they made their way back to the Spire, both of them covered in dust and dirt, and Arcann's pristine white armor grimy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on language: Language information is a little sporadic for Twileki/Ryl, so any and all errors in conjugation or word usage is solely on my shoulders. But his response to her words is the translation, with the exception of 'keella', which as previously used in other chapters, is an endearment meaning 'darling'.
> 
> Selirah seldom speaks her native tongue.. the habit was driven out of her long ago. But she does sometimes think in it, which is what led to the first use of the endearment, and to her admission in this chapter as well. And that is why only Vette and Arcann have heard her speak it.


	21. Mind Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah helps herself to more information than she should, and Arcann and Selirah's connection has some questionable effects on them both. Theron gets an invitation that he can't refuse.

Theron woke slowly, realizing that he felt cold. Part of the problem, he noted as his eyes adjusted to the faint light, was that Arcann had almost all of the blankets wrapped around himself. The only parts of the prince that were visible from around the cocoon of linens was his face, slack and youthful looking in his sleep, and his cybernetic arm, palm resting on the space where Selirah would normally be. 

The other part of the problem was that Selirah -wasn't- where she usually was. Somehow, she'd managed to get up and leave without waking either of them. Theron reasoned that he'd admittedly been a little more tired than usual, but it still was unusual for her to bother stirring herself any earlier than she was forced to by morning meetings or Lana's blistering To-Do list of daily issues that always needed Seli's input. He had noticed that she'd been struggling with sleep for a few days, since they'd returned from Zakuul. Neither she nor Arcann had been particularly forthcoming on what had happened in Breaktown, though he knew the brutal eradication of the Heralds had been a large part of it. But something else had occurred between them, and though Theron had no ability to sense the things that Lana and Senya, or the other force-users could, he could see it in their faces too when they looked at the two of them.

Sitting up in bed slowly, careful not to wake Arcann too, he realized Selirah was in the room after all. He could see her over by the storage lockers that they all used for their gear and belongings, kneeling on the floor, her hands resting lightly on her thighs. Her eyes were closed, head bowed, and though he couldn't see any of the nebulous signs that he might have been able to if he weren't force-blind, he knew she was meditating. It wasn't something that Sith often chose to do; it was too passive and peaceful for many of them to find any use in it, and some even seemed to find it actively a drain on a societal system that called for passion and aggression.

Selirah had spoken of using it in the past, but it was not something he really expected to find her doing regularly. He watched her for a while, but there was no way of knowing when she would come out of it. Lana had told him once that it could be dangerous or harmful to stir someone out of meditation, and never to interrupt it if he could avoid doing so. So he left her to it and lay back down, his gaze resting briefly on Arcann. He reached out and snagged a corner of the blanket, tugging on it gently, trying to regain -some- of it, at least, and the prince rolled over onto his back into the middle of the bed, freeing quite a bit of blanket. Theron appropriated it quickly before it could be stolen away again, grateful for the other man's body heat still permeating the fabric. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift, dozing sleepily.

_Troubled dreams, nightmares, images, past events. Ever since Zakuul, it felt like it was easier to see things from Arcann's memory or thoughts, even if he wasn't actively thinking about them. The first time one of the nightmares had woken her, she'd chosen to meditate to try to flush the thoughts from her mind, to help her sleep. But it'd had the opposite effect, letting her access more of the images, more easily, likely because he was sleeping at the time and she was focused and deep in the force. At first, it'd been his childhood, and Thexan. The two of them, always together. She always saw them from Arcann's viewpoint, and felt the way he had both loved and envied his twin, who didn't seem to feel the same frustrations and jealousies that he did._

_She saw them making a lightsaber together, with Thexan, as always, the one who had worked out how to get it to light, inserting the crystal into the inner chamber. She saw them in constant combat training, always trying to earn the goodwill of Valkorian, whose disapproval was an impenetrable veil at all times over both of them. Nothing had ever been enough to gain his attention. She'd seen, and felt, the beatings delivered by guards in the sparring ring. Broken arms, contusions, broken collar bone, broken wrist, broken ribs. She'd felt him holding in the urge to cry during one of these sessions, his ribs bruised, face black and blue, as Thexan had defended him and helped him back to his feet, only for them to see Valkorian's cold expression as he'd turned his back on them and left. The memory of his pain and resentment had awoken her, and she'd spent hours in meditation, seeing more and more of his memories, his thoughts, his emotions scrolling through her mind like she was paging through a book, or watching a holovid._

_Tonight, though, she'd seen a brief flash of a face, someone she recognized, had known, years ago. Lethan Twi'leks were rare, to say the least, and Darth Atroxa had been one of the only other ones she'd seen who wasn't a prized slave in the Empire. It would be a stretch to say that they were friends, but they had been friendly enough in passing, and she'd admired the other Twi'lek's accomplishments. She'd felt his hand, his left hand, the cybernetic one, gripping Atroxa's wrist, twisting it painfully as he raised his saber to strike, and she'd jerked awake, an incoherent sense of rage rising in her. It'd taken a little while to disentangle herself physically from Theron and Arcann, but she'd finally slipped from the bed and gone to kneel a short distance away. They had never woken before she'd come out of the trance in the past, and so she felt safe exploring this incident more thoroughly._

_Settling into a comfortable position, she let herself sink into the current of the force, feeling her sense of self swept away, and seeking out Arcann's familiar thought patterns and presence, that flame-like golden glow that felt like him at the other end of the bond. Like a needle, she'd pierced through his sleeping mind, his shields not meant to keep her out, only others. She passed through things she had seen, things she would look at again another time, and found the attack on Korriban. Then she let herself experience it from his point of view as they'd assaulted the Sith planet, the home of centuries of artifacts and architecture, of the Sith Academy where she had grown up and trained._

It must have been an hour or two later when Theron felt a hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking him. He opened his eyes to see Arcann's face, his startlingly blue eyes filling up his field of vision. Theron blinked sleepily, trying to wake up and figure out what was going on.

“Theron. You have to wake up,” the other man's bass rumble would have sounded fairly soothing, if it weren't for the nervous look on his face. He nodded in understanding, mumbling agreement that he'd get up in just a minute. He felt Arcann's weight leave the bed, and too late, remembered that Selirah had been over there, meditating. Did he know not to touch her..? He pushed himself upright in the bed, rubbing his eyes and looking over just as Arcann took hold of Selirah's right wrist with his left hand, looking down at her. 

Theron saw her eyes fly open, and he saw her look at the metallic fingers wrapped around her wrist. Her eyes looked slightly unfocused, as if she were still halfway caught up in whatever headspace she was in while meditating, but they looked suddenly terrified, wide and panicked. She flung herself backwards, breaking his light touch on her and smashing into the metal storage lockers with violent force, and Theron jumped out of bed, coming between the two of them as fast as he could. 

“Seli, it's okay. No one is hurting you. He didn't know,” he said quickly, trying to keep his voice low and soothing. Her frantic gaze shifted from Arcann's face to Theron's, and she stared at him, her breathing coming in rapid, terrified pants. “You're okay. Nothing is going to happen to you, love. Just breathe and come back.” Theron took a step towards her, slowly, reaching one hand out to her, and to his relief, after a moment, she glanced at his hand and then took it, stepping into him, wrapping her arms around him. He couldn't see her face anymore from this position, but he could feel her shaking, although whether it was with panic or anger, he wasn't sure.

Arcann's face was a study in confusion as well, and he looked torn about what he should do. It was obvious that something had upset her, but it didn't seem that the prince had any more idea bout it than Theron did, so he took Selirah back to bed, tucking her in and telling her to try to rest. It didn't escape his notice, or Arcann's unfortunately, that she slid over into Theron's spot, curling up with her back to the room. He touched Arcann's shoulder gently, beckoning him to come with him away from the bed and down near the door. “Could you please have Lana push back the morning stuff by an hour or so? Don't tell her anything, just.. tell her Seli slept poorly and needs a little more rest.”

The prince nodded after a brief moment's thought, getting dressed in the nearly silent manner of someone who is terrified of waking the other person in the room, with exaggerated care to each movement. Theron sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. Part of him felt enormous pity for Arcann; Selirah was volatile at the best of times, and when the lens of her anger was pointed at you, it was an excruciating position to be in whether you'd done anything to deserve it or not. But at the same time, he'd seen the look of terror in Seli's eyes in that moment, and he had no idea what had caused it. He didn't think Arcann had actually done anything, but there was no telling what she'd seen while she was in the meditation trance.

Theron stopped him with a hand on his shoulder before he left, lowering his voice to pitch it just for Arcann's hearing. “She's disoriented, and whatever she saw.. she'll be alright. I'll talk to her.” Arcann nodded, but he didn't look at Theron, just headed out the door to find Lana as Theron returned to the room, sitting down on the bed next to Selirah. 

She didn't move for a moment or two, and he began to wonder if maybe she had gone to sleep. But then she said, “Did you send him away?” her voice thick with anger. Theron sighed softly and lay down behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“I sent him away, Seli, but he'll be back. He's really upset. Did he do something, or did you see something?”

“Both. Something he -did-. I saw... I saw when he was hurt, when he lost his arm, on Korriban. And the destruction that he wrought afterwards. I saw Atroxa's face, her pain and fear when he fought her and killed her.” She stiffened, fury in every word. “She was one of the only other Twi'lek that I knew had made it among the Sith, particularly the only other Lethan that I knew. We weren't much alike, she and I, but... it was jarring, seeing her face while he killed her. Knowing that a short time later, he'd be throwing me in carbonite and nearly killing me too.”

Theron digested this carefully, trying a different tactic when he responded again. “You are angry at him, Seli, but.. this was a long time ago. You know he's changed, enormously so. You know everything he's done to prove to you that he's different, and that he regrets having done...”

“No, Theron. He regrets killing Thexan. He regrets letting his father play with him like he was a toy. He may even regret nearly killing me.. at least, now that he knows me and cares about me. But all those people, all the things he destroyed... those are not real to him. He doesn't understand, not really. There's so few of us. So few Lethans and most of them slaves at that. So to have two of us there, both Darths, both high ranked, both warriors; I just felt it so keenly, watching her die through his eyes and feeling his triumph, thinking that at last, his father might value him. That he destroyed Korriban for an impossible goal, something that Valkorian would -never- have given him. She died for nothing. Korriban was decimated for nothing. Because of his anger that the Sith hurt him, took his arm, damaged him.” 

She rolled over to face him, and he ran his fingers over her lekku lightly, stroking the skin softly and watching a faint shiver go through her at the sensation. “It was years ago, love. I know you saw it like it was happening now, but it wasn't. You should have seen his face. He was devastated.” Theron saw her expression harden briefly, but she was listening, at least, so he kept talking, hoping that she would consider his words. “You know what he's like, and how desperately he wants affection. I see it now as clearly as you always did before. He's afraid you will turn your back on him. Don't punish him for this because you're just seeing it now. I think we've paid him back pretty well for the things he did to the Empire and the Republic, don't you? Just.. remember to put what you saw in context, and think about when it happened before you hang him out to dry for it.”

Selirah gazed into his eyes, and Theron saw her jaw slowly ease from the tense, tight line it'd been in. Her eyes softened, and she smiled ruefully. “Theron, if only Arcann knew what a friend he is starting to earn with you. You're absolutely right. I think we need to teach him not to wake me mid-meditation, though, hmm?” Her lips brushed his in a light, affectionate kiss. “I'm glad you were here, love.”

The door opened, and Arcann came in, his gaze shifting from Selirah to Theron and staying there, his brows arching slightly in question. Theron beckoned him forward with a small gesture of one hand, smiling at the other man. “Thank you for talking to Lana, though I'm sure she won't give us much of a break, knowing her.”

“She said an hour, or she was coming to haul all of us out of bed whether we were dressed or not.” He didn't smile, still uncertain of his welcome, but Theron got up, ceding his space to Arcann and moving to get dressed. He sank down on the bed, sitting a little distance away from Seli, but she slid one arm out of the blankets, taking his hand and drawing him down next to her, wrapping her arm around him lightly. She ran her fingers down his left arm and took his metallic hand in hers, feeling him close his hand gently around hers.

“Everything is alright, keella,” Seli said softly to him, her body warm against his and her lips brushing his ear, breath tickling his skin when she spoke. “I was pulled out of my meditation, and I didn't know what was happening, and I thought I was still in what I was seeing. It confused me, and upset me, but it wasn't your fault. I didn't mean to make you feel badly.” She felt the sigh leave his body, and he relaxed visibly like he had no idea how tense he had been until now. “And I should apologize to you, because I admit, I have been prying.” 

“Prying? Into what?” Arcann asked, his eyes half-closed while she pressed a kiss to his earlobe, teeth nipping the skin lightly. “Me? I feel you there, sometimes. Not always, but I could tell. You know it all anyway, Seli.”

“Not all of it. I should have asked, regardless.”

Theron sat on the edge of the bed, a datapad in his hand, scrolling through messages. “Seli...” he said a moment later, an odd note in his voice. “Take a look at this.”

“What is it, Theron?” She sat up, looking at him as he turned to face them, offering her the datapad. Taking it from him, she turned it around so that she could see it. 

_From: Encrypted sender  
To: Encrypted recipient_

_Theron,_

_I hope that you will take this in the conciliatory spirit that is the intent, and will not simply delete it without reading. That, among other reasons, is why I have encrypted the message; I didn't wish for either of us to be seen communicating with each other, just in case it would put you in danger, or cause more issues for me._

_Forgive me, I have gone off on a tangent without even saying that this is your mother. I know that we haven't spoken in a long time, and I know that like most things between us, this is largely on my shoulders, and of my own doing. But I hope that you will consider meeting with me, so that we can talk, and I can see with my own eyes that you are doing well, and are content._

_I have no illusions that you would have trouble finding a way to contact me in return. So please, Theron, consider what I have said, and tell me that you will do this one thing for me._

_Satele_

“I mean.. at least she didn't try signing it 'Love, Mom',” Theron commented acerbically. 

Datapad still in her hand, Selirah stared at the words, feeling nothing but an immediate urge to forbid any discussion of agreeing to what was obviously a terrible idea. What possible good could come of seeing Satele? She had chosen to distance herself from her son, to not have a real relationship with him. Why would she want it now? It was suspicious, to say the least.

“Theron,” Arcann spoke into the silence, his voice low and thoughtful. “This does not really seem to be a random invitation, to me. Why wouldn't she have just seen you while she was on Odessen? Now suddenly she needs to see you? This... “

“.. is suspicious. Exactly. I was... “ Seli paused, and ended carefully, “that was my feeling as well when I was reading it. It just feels like Jedi trickery.”

“Not that you're necessarily wrong about the trickery thing, but it is fair to say that you might not have the most clear view of Jedi motivations, Seli,” Theron pointed out. He watched Arcann and Selirah both glance at each other with eerily similar expressions on their faces, and then both of them shrugged almost simultaneously. 

“I work with Jedi every day here, Theron, and I have no issues with it. Your mother, however, is not a typical Jedi, and if you don't think they get up to just as much questionable behavior as Sith, you have not been paying attention. I've seen the things they do to people to 'keep peace', and a lot of it is more openly manipulative than anything I've ever done. At least I tell people exactly what I will do if they thwart my wishes. Jedi make you think agreeing with them was your idea. They subvert people and then piously claim it was for their own good.” She frowned down at the datapad, then flipped it across the bed to Theron with a dismissive gesture. “I won't tell you not to go, Theron. It's your choice. But I don't think it's what it appears to be, at all.”

“I don't know why she didn't seek me out when she was here on Odessen, Seli. And I understand your point of view. But I was raised among them, and presumably you don't think I turned out too badly,” Theron responded, his hazel eyes flickering between her and Arcann, searching the prince's expression for any sign of support at all. 

Selirah set her jaw stubbornly, shaking her head. “You turned out the way you are in spite of their influence, not because of it. I'm not trying to imply that our way is better. I know it's not. It has always been flawed. A flawed experiment. On both sides. We were influenced, both of us, both of our sides, to constantly be at war, to be fundamentally unable to find common ground. So you must understand why I can't see this as anything but yet another attempt to gain power. To take a stab at our position here, because they dislike the threat that my fleet presents to them.”

Arcann continued much in the same vein a moment later, and Theron had the disturbing sensation that it was almost like Selirah's thoughts were just coming from him now at times. As if she was pushing him to support her, to add strength to her argument. But it didn't work that way.. not for Jedi... at least, not as he'd understood it. But there was an oddly pleased expression on her beautiful face when he glanced at her, and their behavior had been a little strange, lately.

“Your mother knows who you are to Selirah, Theron. It hardly is out of the realm of possibility that she would understand what your loss could do to her. It would be a smart move to make. They cannot lure me away with any similar pseudo-gambit, because they have nothing and no bond to me to make me want to agree to any proposal they would make. But you.. they have your mother -and- your father. And the knowledge that your lack of relationship with them has always had an effect upon you,” Arcann's rumbling voice was imminently reasonable, his logic impeccable. “Gaining possession of the Empress' only openly known consort would be quite a large move on the complicated game board we're all navigating here.”

“I see what you're both saying. I do. But not everything is about the Alliance, or the Republic, or the Sith Empire. I think you're both just taking this far too seriously as some kind of political power grab, when it's just... guilt. She knew she couldn't just come here and see me. Your hostility towards the Republic is a known factor, Seli. Even if it's fragile, you have a relationship with Empress Acina that you do not share with the Republic.” Theron shrugged, picking up the discarded datapad, his fingers tapping quickly, and he began the work of building the layers of encryption he'd need to send a response. “So it makes sense that she'd ask to meet me elsewhere. I can make sure that it's a neutral location, and that she comes alone.”

“How would you -know- if she's alone or not, Theron? You can't sense other force-users. You'd be going in blind!” Selirah balled her hands up into fists, the knuckles paling with the tightness of her grip, and Arcann rested his hand lightly atop hers. “No, you cannot go with him. I will not put both of you in their hands at once,” she added sharply, glancing at the prince as if he'd actually asked the question. “We will not discuss that at all, it's not happening.”

That, at least, Theron was used to. He knew they could communicate silently, and so hearing half the conversation was not as strange as the synced physical behavior, or the way Selirah's goals seemed to have become Arcann's goals over the last week or so. A balance had definitely shifted there, and if he was able to actually understand what the bond between them was like, perhaps he'd dig into it.. but he'd definitely learned his lesson well the last time he'd tried to nose into her headspace, and would not be stepping on that mine ever again. But on this, at least, he could be stubborn, and so he dug in, refusing to let her override him, even though he had to admit on some level that her arguments made sense. “I know I'm at a disadvantage in that way. What if I took one of the others with me? Alyxia and Torian are here right now, they could go with me.”

“Mandalorians are not force-sensitive, as a rule,” Selirah said dismissively. “That's not enough. Take Nox, or Lyorek.”

“Sith, and Sith, and both of them are annoyingly sarcastic Inquisitors no less. If a Mando isn't a good idea, bringing snarky, rude Sith may not be either. What about...” Arcann paused in thought, clearly flipping through the roster in his head. “Gelena, if she's nearby. And yes, I know, she's not force-sensitive either, that's why I think you should send Yariele too.”

Selirah nodded, eyeing Theron with an unyielding look. “If you're set on doing this, then take them with you, if only for my peace of mind. Yariele can take care of the Jedi side of things, and they'd find it very challenging to detain Gelena for long. She's slippery, to say the least. Though her attitude isn't -really- an improvement over Lyo or Nox's.” She rose from the bed, coming around to where Theron was sitting, and knelt down on the floor, laying her head down in his lap. Theron stopped what he was doing, setting the datapad down, and he laid a hand on her head, stroking his fingers gently over her lekku, tracing the lines of her tattoos absently. “I won't stop you, Theron. But.. I wish you wouldn't go.”

His fingers paused and then resumed their journey over the black lines bisecting her red skin, moving his hand to the curving black tattoo following the line of her jaw. “I know that she's never going to be the kind of mother I wish I'd had, Seli, but... I still wish, part of me anyway, that we had some kind of relationship. A better one. Even now, with us on two different sides.. she's still my mother. I need to hear what she has to say. But then I will be back, and likely as not, that will be the last time she even attempts to talk to me at all. I do know it will probably be disappointing. But I need to hear her out. Try to understand.”

She lay there in Theron's lap for a few moments more, her eyes closed. Then she sighed audibly and sat up, getting to her feet. Bending to kiss Theron, she moved away to get dressed. “I don't understand, but I love you. If you need to do this, then it is what it is. Let's get going. Lana will come in here and drag us all out in ten minutes if we're not in the war room, and we'll have to let her know that you're going to be leaving us for a short while. But I'd rather we kept that knowledge as tight as possible. The three of us, Lana, and Gelena and Yariele. No one else.”

Tightening the fastenings on her boots with one hand, Selirah glanced at Arcann and Theron before leading them out the door towards the meeting. “I'm going on record, though. This is not a good idea. I don't need the force to tell me that.”

“Your objection is noted, love.”

“For all the good that's likely to do any of us,” Arcann added, with a short, mirthless laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a -lot- of characters, and so at present, they mostly make useful secondary story elements. Maybe sometime I'll write separately about a few of them. You'll notice that Torian is mentioned, even though Vette is clearly not dead. That was a judgment call for me in regards to making the story run the way I wanted it too.. I didn't like being forced to choose when there's no reason literally -no one else- could have come to the other person's aid, and in my storyline, my Bounty Hunter went after her husband while Seli went after Vette. So Torian is not dead, and neither is Vette, and that's just the way it is. *puts foot down* Let's just assume Guss Tuno got killed, or something. (Sorry Guss, but I'm not very invested in you.)


	22. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron goes to Rishi to meet his mother with positive hopes for the outcome, and things go a little bit poorly for Team Alliance.

“Don't touch anything,” Gelena admonished, for the tenth time so far since leaving Odessen. The smuggler had taken over the shuttle the moment they'd come aboard, and Yariele seemed to have little interest in arguing the point. As a whole, Yariele seemed to have little interest in much of anything. The Jedi was very quiet, and very serene, and very uncommunicative, prone to one or two word answers unless the response absolutely required more. Her slender frame was swathed in midnight blue robes, with a deep hood, and she carried a single lightsaber that Theron had never actually seen used, though he was sure that she knew how to utilize it if necessary. She was fairly plain, with short dark hair and olive skin, other than a pair of piercingly blue eyes that reminded him a bit of Arcann and Senya when he looked at her.

“I'm not touching anything except this chair, Gelena, and I hope you at least don't mind me sitting down since we're going to be in hyperspace for a while.” 

“I guess that's okay,” she conceded, eyeing him suspiciously. “But I heard about you breaking the omnicannon on the Gravestone, so.. just... don't touch anything, Shan.”

Taller than Selirah, Gelena was about on an eye level with Theron, though her build was lighter than his, and she always seemed to move with a nervous kind of quickness that made him glad that she was on his side and wouldn't have to try to outdraw her with a blaster any time soon. Unless he touched something on the kriffing shuttle, of course. She had dark blue eyes, large and lined with dark lashes, and hair that he supposed qualified as blonde, but was so pale that it really was more white than anything else. It was gathered back into a haphazard braid at the moment that lay down her back to her waist, and if he was honest about it, there wasn't much about her that wasn't eye-catching, including the unusually colored hair. She wore a leather jacket and tight leather pants with boots, a pair of blasters, and a band of white cloth around her chest that he supposed was meant to pass as a shirt and left a great expanse of bare golden skin both above and below it. There was nothing plain about her, and her swaggering gait and mouthy attitude were probably very attractive to a certain kind of man. 

The kind of man who didn't sleep next to powerful Sith women, that is. Theron gave the smuggler a bland smile. “I didn't break it. That's just the way Tora tells the story.”

“Yeah, yeah. That's what they all say. Nothing to do now but sit back and enjoy the ride anyway, handsome. You could catch some sleep if you need to, or whatever.” Gelena waved one hand indifferently, tapping a few small course corrections into the nav computer. “Just don't get any ideas about fiddling with the systems. Everything's perfect just the way I've got it set up.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Theron answered cheerfully, propping his feet up on the edge of the console just to watch her narrow her eyes at him threateningly. He closed his eyes, not really intending to sleep so much as be alone with his thoughts. Yariele was probably doing the same thing.. she was already seated comfortably in a jump seat towards the back of the cabin with her eyes closed and her hood pulled down over her face, but he doubted the Jedi was actually sleeping.

Their ultimate goal was Rishi, in the Outer Rim. It was independent, and didn't have a strong presence of either Republic or Empire since the whole Revan affair, and so it had proven a suitable meeting place to Satele when Theron had suggested it. The planet held a lot of memories, good and bad, of his time there with Lana, and the battle with Revan's forces. He remembered Selirah's obvious enjoyment of the lush planet and the rough pirates that inhabited it; she'd been more relaxed there than he thought he'd probably ever seen her since. She'd loved the warm water, the beaches, and the violent pirate taverns where finding a brawl was as easy as breathing. And he remembered the relief on her face when she'd found him in the base, where she'd come after him when he'd been captured. He'd been more than a little bit in love with her that day, and it'd only grown from there. 

Selirah had not handled his leaving very well; she obviously felt like his mother was plotting against him, and it made her incredibly nervous to have him there without being able to be at his side. When he'd said his goodbyes, she'd held him so tightly that it'd squeezed the breath out of him. Her only words to him were to return safely, or she'd rip Rishi apart to find him. Arcann had practically had to peel her off of him just so that he could board the ship, and she'd looked so worried that he'd nearly canceled the whole thing just to erase that look from her face. 

Now that he was away, though, he felt a little excited at the prospect of seeing his mother again. Theron wasn't a kid anymore, and he wasn't expecting some kind of happy reunion. Truth be told, Selirah and Arcann's words still lingered in the back of his mind. They'd been so certain that her intentions were Republic-motivated, or Jedi trickery, that it was impossible for him to completely disregard the thought that it really was just a plot of some sort. 

The time passed slowly, but eventually, they dropped out of hyperspace. Gelena went from a slothfully lazy pose, dozing in her chair, to sudden motion, bringing them into atmo with a steady, knowledgeable hand. “I'm putting you two down here on this platform, then I'm going to bring the shuttle in on my own. Better you don't seem to be with me, if possible.. it'll let me seem unaffiliated. If the Jedi doesn't probe too much, she won't know I'm with you two, and we'll have a little advantage. Just in case things go sideways, handsome.” She gave Theron a cheeky wink, patting him boldly on the thigh like they were great old friends. “Wake up, Master Jedi. Time for you to earn your keep and watch over our prized bull here, so your buddies don't steal him and start an intergalactic incident.” 

Yariele slid her hood back a little bit, gazing calmly at Gelena, undeterred by the smuggler's nervous energy and overly familiar demeanor. “Of course, Captain. We'll be fine here, and I expect you'll be there at the bar where we're meeting Master Shan. I believe she's likely to have procured a private room, but stay nearby, in case there is any trouble. I don't anticipate any, but..” she cast a look at Theron, her plain features incurious but assessing, “it would be wise to be prepared for all eventualities.” 

“There won't be any trouble. I know who she is, but she's also my mother,” Theron protested.

“She is a Jedi first, Theron,” Yariele told him imperturbably. “You, of all people, should recognize that fact. I do not doubt that she has affection for you, but she has never recanted of her decision to give you up entirely. Do not underestimate her devotion to the Order or to the Republic.”

“Do I need to worry about your allegiances, then?” 

“No, I made my decision. I am loyal to the Alliance, and to the Empress. The Order failed to fight when the Eternal Empire came, and your mother walked away entirely. I am here to protect you, not to defect or assist the former Grandmaster in the event of any plan.” Yariele rose, her robes swirling around her booted feet. Opening the hatch, she gestured at it. “Jump down, Theron. I will slow you.”

The uneven platform lay below them, a wooden landing platform attached to the pirate town by long wooden walkways. Theron looked down, and glanced at Yariele doubtfully.

“Jump, Theron,” she repeated patiently. 

Theron jumped.

Yariele was as good as her word. She slowed his descent, and he landed easily, bent knees absorbing the last of the impact. She landed beside him a moment later, ink-blue robe settling around her calmly in folds. The Jedi gestured lightly at the walkway, a small smile touching her lips. “Lead the way, Theron. I've never been to a pirate town. I think it will be fun.”

He laughed, shaking his head at her. “Fun, eh? I guess we'll find out. Either I'll be right, and this'll just be a meeting, or Selirah will be right and we'll never hear the end of it from her.” He led them down the walkway, taking no note of the tall smuggler with the long braid who appeared halfway through town and paced them from a short distance away. 

Gelena fit right in with the disreputable denizens of Raider's Cove, having found a somewhat shabby looking hat and a ragged scarf that she'd tied jauntily around her neck. She swaggered past them, stopped at a shopfront, haggled over some kind of huge bladed vibroblade. When they walked past her, she was cursing inventively at the shopkeeper, arguing loudly with him in Huttese. Fifteen minutes later, as they were approaching the bar Satele had chosen, the smuggler appeared again, counting a handful of credits, likely from selling the same blade she'd just purchased from the shop. Theron was reluctantly impressed with her ability to settle into the role she'd chosen. 

They made their way into the bar, and Theron barely had time to look around before Yariele's head swiveled towards a back corner of the room as if she'd known exactly where Satele would be waiting. “There she is. I will not interfere or be obtrusive, Theron, I promise you. This is your business. I am just here to assist you, in case it becomes necessary,” she said quietly.

Theron nodded, heading towards his mother. Satele looked older, her hair confined in several thick braids streaked with grey. Her eyes, long-lidded and serene, were the same as always, and she rose slowly, her brown robes settling around her legs as she straightened. “Hello, Theron. I have a room.. I just wanted to wait until you arrived.” Her gaze went past him to take in Yariele, and she smiled faintly in recognition. “What a pleasant surprise, Master Yariele. Join us, please.”

Yariele bowed her head in greeting, but said nothing, merely following Theron as he trailed after his mother down the side hallway. The room she'd taken was small and comfortably furnished, with a small couch, several chairs and tables, and a tray of steaming food and several types of drinks. An assortment of glasses stood on the surface of the table, and Satele gestured to the seating before choosing one of the chairs for herself. 

Theron took one end of the couch, and filched a chunk of bread and some fruit, his stomach rumbling impatiently to remind him that he'd forgotten to eat anything in all the excitement of heading here. “So, I'm not going to assume that you were feeling suddenly maternal, Satele,” he said after a moment, lifting his eyes to her face. “Want to tell me what you're looking for with this meeting?”

She arched her brows coolly, but her expression otherwise was still, untouched by any emotion positive or negative. She didn't seem surprised by his cynicism, but it was clear that she wouldn't be so easily drawn out either if she did have some sort of plan beyond meeting with him to catch up. “I wouldn't insult your intelligence by trying to mend bridges this late, Theron. I've made my choices, and good or ill, they are what they are, now. I -am- proud of the man you've become, but I'm not going to try to claim any credit for it.” Satele poured some juice into a glass, lifting it and taking a sip. “Jace could not be here, of course, but he did wish for me to pass on his good wishes to you.” 

Theron sighed impatiently, leaning back against the back of the couch. Yariele, he noticed, had not chosen to sit, and had her head bowed and her hands hidden inside the voluminous sleeves of her dark robe, her back to a corner and her attention focused inward. “I'm sure he's quite busy trying to mend all the damage that you all let Saresh do to the Republic, and no.. I'm not going to ask for any details so you can tell me that I no longer have any stake in the goings on there. I already know that, and I don't regret my choice. I am valued in the Alliance in a way that I never was in the Republic, and I'm a part of something that I can be proud of my part in, Satele. Any alliance we make with either side in the future will be Selirah's decision, and I'll go along with it.”

Satele sat back, her drink balanced lightly on the arm of her chair. “You were always valued, Theron. I know that perhaps it didn't always take the form you would have preferred, and that in your career, your actions weren't always lauded the way you might have liked them to be. But the reality is that the Republic is more than just our actions in a vacuum. You were always a loyal and dedicated agent. I don't believe that's changed fundamentally just because a situation arose in which it was necessary to form different alliances in order to fight a greater threat.”

Theron noticed that Yariele was actually paying attention, suddenly. The Jedi met his eyes, and she frowned ever so slightly, her eyes shifting towards his mother in a pointed fashion. “I was loyal, and dedicated, and a good agent, Satele, but it rarely got me anything but punished and demoted and generally dragged through the muck due to the whims of whichever corrupt politician was currently directing things. Yes, this situation was unprecedented, but in the process, the Republic surrendered and bellied up to the Eternal Throne to save themselves. They didn't fight. The Alliance -did-. WE saved you.” He sat forward, his arms resting on his knees, fixing his mother with a scowl. “I didn't come here to be recruited or talked into switching sides, and I don't have any interest in doing it. I hoped you actually wanted to talk to -me-, but I see that that was a foolish expectation on my part. Much like it always has been.”

“Theron... I'm not going to say it's not my wish that you would return to the Republic. It is. And it's also the wish of your father, and of many people who recognized your skills and unique abilities.” Satele looked at him, her expression calm. “Yariele, quiet as you're being, I do know you're there, and the truth is, you would be welcomed as well. Anyone who wished to return would be.”

“A kind offer, Master Satele, but one that I would not be hasty to agree to for many of the same reasons that your son has articulated,” the Jedi responded mildly. “We have made our choices not out of some uninformed sense of childish idealism, but out of reasoned, considered facts. We wished to fight, not simply give up and offer tribute. So we fought, and we found a leader to rally behind who was unafraid to face the impossible. She did not turn her back on us.”

Satele's eyes tightened briefly in response to Yariele's gentle rebuke, and Theron added a tally mark to the younger Jedi's side in the argument, because she'd clearly scored a point. “I understand your disappointment and disillusionment, both of you,” his mother answered after a moment's silence. “I respect your decisions and understand that you feel they are immutable. I wish you would at least consider my words, though. You are welcome to contact me at any time, and I would be happy to speak further about it with you, or anyone else in your Alliance who would like to seek the stability of the Republic.”

“So you did bring me here just to try to get me to reconsider my position with the Alliance. You really thought that -you- would have the pull with me to make me leave Selirah and all the work we've done, and everything we've accomplished. She's going to -love- the fact that she was right.” Theron tried to contain the bitterness in his voice, but he knew he'd failed completely. The disappointment was just too keen to hide, and he didn't have his mother's icy emotional wasteland to rely upon. His father's influence, probably. “She told me it was just Jedi trickery, and that you were only after the resources you'd lost to us, or wishing to cause some kind of vacuum in our Alliance. I stupidly thought you actually wanted to see me.”

Yariele's pitying look was too much for Theron to bear on top of everything else. He got to his feet, looking down at his mother. “I wish you hadn't even bothered to contact me. And I wish I had known better than to think maybe you regretted never being a mother to me at all, my whole life. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but... I really thought you wanted to talk to me, to catch up. I guess I should thank you for curing me of that foolish idea. But right now, I just want to leave.”

“Of course, Theron. I'm sorry that I've never been able to be what you needed me to be, though.. you may not believe that, but I have regretted it at times,” Satele stated firmly, rising as well. “Take care, and may the force be with you.”

Yariele bowed her head in farewell to the other Jedi, and then followed Theron out of the door. He was silent for a long time.. long enough to leave the bar and head back towards the spaceport of the ramshackle pirate town. “I feel so kriffing stupid.” His voice was soft, distracted. “I don't know why I keep expecting her to suddenly grow normal emotions, or to.. love me.”

“I can't say for certain what she feels, Theron. But I think she loves you. I just think she's really terrible at expressing it.. and the truth is, Jedi are taught to suppress that part of ourselves, and at every turn, it's reiterated that we should never let emotions color our judgments. It stunts you in a way, and while I don't necessarily disagree with our tenets, I think it causes some serious harm in situations like yours. It was unfair, what was done to you, and what continues to be done to you.” 

Theron nodded his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “Hey, has Gelena caught up with us, yet?”

They paused, glancing around in the narrow, haphazard streets, but the blonde smuggler was nowhere to be seen. “She may already have headed to the ship, but.. I suppose it is strange that we haven't seen her.”

Yariele closed her eyes, concentrating, trying to at least get a feel for the smuggler's location. Theron was the only one watching, therefore, when suddenly Gelena darted by them both, seizing his wrist and dragging him after her with surprising strength. “Come on, Jedi, time to go, now now now!” Gelena shouted, and the Jedi shot after them quickly, her robes not impeding her speed in the least.

Theron heard something hit the boardwalk in front of them, and barely had time to shield his eyes before the flashbang grenade went off. Gelena's hand was gone from his wrist, and he tried to get his bearings, hearing a struggle happening around him. He drew and fired twice, hearing a grunt that he hoped meant he'd shot someone who -wasn't- on his side. But then something hit him in the temple, and as everything went black, he heard his mother's serene voice again. 

“I'm sorry, Theron. I had sincerely hoped this could have gone differently.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually going to go another way with this, but.. this was the mood I was in, so this was the way it went. ;) As usual, when I post at the wee hours of the early morning, I'll probably find some spelling or tense errors in the morning and fix them.


	23. Too Little, Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Yariele figure out where they are, and Theron has an annoying unproductive conversation. Selirah prepares to retrieve Theron, and Gelena makes herself useful.

**Hyperspace:**

Pale, golden light touched Theron's eyes as he slowly opened them. He could see Yariele kneeling next to him, with her hands spread over him, about six inches from his chest. She had her eyes closed, and it almost seemed like the glow was originating from her. Maybe it was. His head was still pounding, but as she sat there over him, he felt the pain eased away with each passing moment, until it was gone. A short time later, she opened her eyes, the pale blue irises resting on his face with an obvious expression of concern. 

“How do you feel, Theron?” she asked, her low voice soothingly unruffled despite their circumstances.

“Fine, now. Thank you, Yariele. Are we off planet, or are we still on Rishi?” He sat up, and Yariele withdrew, her legs folded beneath her heavy navy-blue robes. 

“We are not on Rishi, I think. But we I can feel where we are, or at least.. I can guess where we are. This is Yavin that we are orbiting. The strength in the dark side surrounding it is unmistakable, and it would be the only dark side location that would make sense. Easy to hide, barely anyone on the ground but research groups from the Empire. I think they mean to take us down there. Do you think your father assisted Master Shan in this?” The Jedi tilted her head slightly, birdlike, her inquiry gently stated.

Theron rubbed a hand over his face, feeling his implants with the pads of his fingers. “They kriffing fried me with that second blast,” he observed, more to himself than to Yariele. “I don't know. I hope not. But I guess I'm the last one to ask about the motivations of the people who made me, eh? Obviously, I lack perspective about their reasons.”

“You are a son, and you want your parents to be … parents. There is nothing wrong with that, Theron. The bigger concern is what our Empress will do when she realizes they have taken you. I admire what she has done with the Alliance, and she is even-handed in her decisions. But she does not have a Jedi's detachment. She will destroy the Republic, to find you.”

“Gelena isn't here. Perhaps they didn't get her, so maybe it won't end up becoming a huge incident. I don't know why Satele would be so willing to do something like this. It's foolhardy. She has met Selirah. She knows what she is like.”

“No, she knows what she's like when she is not with you, without your safety at issue. I am not so blind as to think that the Selirah I have seen is the same as the one that will be searching for you, Theron. Neither are you. But perhaps your mother does not understand what she has done. She likely just wanted more time to work on you.” Yariele shrugged fluidly, her placid, plain face calm and expressionless. She didn't look worried, or even perturbed by their captivity, even as the ship they were on began to descend. “They will probably gas us when we are in the atmosphere.. knock us out so they can move us more easily. I'm not telling you this so you will fight it.. just so that you will expect it when it comes. It would be the smart thing to do, so that they do not have to actually fight us or hurt us. They will want to keep us safe and undamaged. Your mother will see that as a bargaining chip.”

“Just like she sees me, apparently,” Theron replied, and Yariele had the grace to look away, letting the anger he felt stand without comment. 

Moments later, the gas hit his nose, sweetish and sickly scented, and darkness enfolded them both once again.

**Odessen:**

When he looked at Selirah through the force normally, he saw an orange-red glow, shot through with a core of dark and light, mingling together. Some days, it was darker; some days lighter. 

Today, it was solid black, and the glow was suppressed, sparking, and Arcann knew to keep himself as separate as he could from her, so as not to let her drag him into her rage. She was keeping her temper with everyone here, so far. But he could see her patience thinning and fraying with each failed attempt to contact Theron, Yariele, and Gelena. Something had gone wrong, and the moment they had dropped out of contact, her presence in the bond had flared into a near-instant bonfire of emotion that he'd had to retreat from physically as well as mentally. He could still feel her, though, pushing on him through her end of the bond, her fury unconsciously seeking even more fuel. 

“There's a call coming in,” Vette said suddenly, working to tighten the connection and bringing the flickering image up on the table. Gelena's image came into focus, the smuggler's expression wary as she took note of the stormy expression on Selirah's face. 

“I see you already know something's not right, but let me cast a little light on the whole affair, Commander. They hadn't left the meeting place long when I saw the soldiers tailing them. They were making an effort to keep it low-key but you know how soldiers are, how they move. It was easy to see what they were. They hit Yariele and Theron with a flashbang, and there was a pulse, too.. probably to take out his implants and any monitoring on them. His mother was with them. I did what you'd told me to do, slipped out of there and dropped down under the boardwalk, then came around and followed them.”

“Did they take him off-planet?” Arcann asked, casting a glance at Seli. Her hands were fists, jaw set in a furious, tight line. 

“Yeah they did, first thing, big guy. I managed to track the jump, though, and I'm in orbit around Yavin. Saw the ship drop down a bit ago, though I can't be completely certain where they landed exactly in all that green. What's the plan? Want me to go down?” Gelena asked, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with anticipation.

Selirah held up a hand before Lana could weigh in, and everyone fell silent, watching her. Arcann could see the concern on Lana's face, her yellow eyes tight at the corners with worry. “Yes. Find their location but don't engage. After you find them, I want you to go to these coordinates,” Seli replied, her voice oddly calm, given what Arcann could see going on inside her mind. “Wait there. I will have further orders once I know you have their position.”

“Got it, boss.” Gelena didn't waste time or words, her image vanishing on the heels of the final syllable of her answer. 

Selirah closed her eyes, pacing slowly back and forth. Lana glanced from her to Arcann, taking obvious note of his distance from her. She folded her arms, waiting patiently as the Twi'lek pathed slowly from one end of the room to the other, seeing the roiling fury building inside the other woman as easily as Arcann could. His separation from her was clearly a self-preservation urge, but Lana suspected it would do him no good.. Selirah was almost certainly going to take him with her, just as definitely as she would go herself and refuse to be told no. There was no point in arguing with her on it. Not with Theron at the other end of the trip to Yavin.

“Lana,” she said finally, her voice still eerily quiet. “Is Lyorek here? I know that Nox is not currently in residence.”

“Yes. Shall I have him head for the Fury?” 

Arcann could see the thoughts scroll across her face, almost hearing her in his head as she considered the fleet, the Gravestone, the utter destruction of the entire moon, then of Coruscant; but finally she nodded tightly. “The Fury, yes. Route Gelena's communications there once we launch.”

“May the force ever serve you, Empress.”

“It hasn't let me down yet. Let's hope today isn't that day.”

**Yavin:**

When Theron woke up, Satele was in the room where he was being held, and Yariele was not present. He sat up and stretched sore arms and legs, his back and neck aching from the uncomfortable position he'd been in while sleeping, and looked at his mother silently, waiting for her to say something. 

“I know you're angry with me, Theron,” Satele said, somewhat unnecessarily and punctuated by a rude snort from her son. “I just wanted to talk with you in private, without Yariele's influence. I thought it would be helpful if we could speak like this, without the concern of interruption. We'll have some time, this way.”

“I'm so far beyond angry at this point, it's not even in view. You know how stupid this is, don't you? You can't just kidnap me, and you made it even worse by taking Yariele. This is essentially an unsanctioned attack on Selirah's Alliance, and she's going to view it as exactly that, and respond accordingly.”

He was rewarded by a brief flicker of irritation in Satele's cool gaze, but she said only, “Perhaps that is so, but done is done, and I think it will all be to the good. I really think that perhaps it will be easier for you to understand my side of this if you have some time to consider it.”

“There's nothing to consider, Satele. I told you I had no interest in returning to the Republic, and I told you that I was happy where I am. You can't just do whatever you please. You abandoned your position in the Order, you abandoned the Jedi, you abandoned the Republic. Why should I listen to -anything- you say about it? Why should I think that you have any authority to make any offer, even if I -was- interested in listening to one?”

Satele shifted her weight, and for a moment, he saw something that looked like uncertainty in her face. She seemed to be considering whether or not to tell him something, and his instincts told him that it was something important. “I do not have official sanction, obviously, or I would not have taken such an action. But I'm capable of seeing where the force leads me, Theron. You belong with the Republic, despite my personal failings. You can rub them in my face all you wish, but you cannot deny all the good you did in service to the Republic.”

“That doesn't matter now,” he responded, sighing internally at the fact that she'd clearly decided to keep whatever information she had to herself for now. Perhaps she'd reveal it on her own, but he'd have to keep trying to push, see if he could make her spill it. “It's been years since I've been a part of the Republic, officially, and after I left, I think it's unlikely that they would ever put me in any kind of position of authority again, or even let me operate without restrictions. I'd be suspect for the rest of my life because of my affiliation with the Alliance, and that's not even slightly tempting.”

He could almost see her mind shifting gears, taking a new tactic each time he poked holes in her latest attempt. He had to give her credit for perseverance, even if her choices were incredibly short-sighted. “I think we could ameliorate the damage from that, though you're correct, it would take time. You would have to show your loyalty, and your willingness to put Republic goals ahead of any other.. concerns.”

“In other words, I'd have to betray every person I've spent the last few years working with to build the alliance, most particularly Lana, and Selirah. Gee, I mean.. it's so tempting when you put it that way, Satele.” Theron rolled his eyes, barking a short, humorless laugh. “Let me just point out that they've never kidnapped me, or tried to browbeat me into agreeing with them. No one had to ask me to join them. I could see that I wanted to be a part of what they were doing, and what they were going to accomplish. I could see that Selirah was going to change everything around her, and I wanted to be there to help her. I would never turn on her.”

Satele took a few slow breaths, watching him calmly. “I know that you have feelings for her, and that you value her feelings for you, Theron, but she is still a Sith. You can't honestly tell me that you don't understand what that could mean. And what it could entail. It hurts to give up someone that we care for, but..”

“Oh, don't even try that. I doubt it caused you more than a moment's discomfort to give me up. If it did, you've done such an amazing job of hiding it that literally no one thinks that you would cross the street to throw kolto on me if I was on fire. No one except me, but I'm coming around to Selirah's way of thinking. It's all Jedi trickery, and manipulations. At least Jace has an excuse for our mediocre relationship... you and I have less than nothing between us. We may as well be strangers. So you'll just have to forgive me if I don't want to hear your thoughts on how it -feels- to give up someone you love, because you have NO idea what that would be like. You've never loved anyone but yourself.” Theron got to his feet angrily, pacing the room despite the lingering wooziness from the gas they'd used on him.

“Theron.. I know that my actions are hard to see as those of someone who cares for you. But I -do- care for you. It's not the way that you would like it to be, but it's all that I could give.”

“I have people who care about me, Satele. I have Selirah. And if she's not already on her way here, she will be soon. Just let me go. Neither of us want you to be here when she arrives to find me, because it's not going to end well. If you're not going to let me go, then get out. I'm done talking.” 

Theron could feel her gaze on him, but he refused to look at her. He felt so angry, and so hurt, that he couldn't face her. He just wanted her to leave him alone, which she should have no problem doing, since it's pretty much all she'd done his whole life. For the first time, Theron felt envy about the bond that Arcann had with Selirah. If someone had somehow managed to make off with -him-, she'd have been able to knock down their door ten minutes later. The way they both always knew where the other one was at all times was downright disturbing sometimes to watch. But no one could hide them from each other, either. He knew Seli was coming, and that she'd come herself. She'd never suffer someone else to come find him, just the way he would have come to find her if she'd been the one stolen away. But it would have been a lot easier if she could just.. use her force radar the way she could with Arcann. 

Theron wasn't equally sure that the prince would be with her when she arrived; it was hard to know what his motivations would be from one day to the next, and though they'd been finding their own tentative friendship together, Arcann was slow to warm up to anyone but Selirah. They were so close that he was pretty sure they could finish each other's sentences at this point, and he'd be lying if he didn't admit he was a little jealous of the depth of their relationship. They shared something that he couldn't have with her, and that wasn't easy to put aside. 

But even without that bond, he had Selirah's love, and he knew she would be furious at his mother's high-handedness. Theron hoped sincerely that Satele would see the wisdom of his advice to leave, and would take it.. but he doubted that was going to happen. Instead, he was going to be caught between his controlling, distant mother, and his furious, vengeful Sith lover. There was literally nothing about that situation that sounded fun to him.

Satele had been silent all this time,and Theron had half-forgotten that she was even still in the room when she spoke. “Theron, if you could talk to your father, would you listen to him, at least? And really consider what he has to say?”

Theron swung around, fixing her with an incredulous stare. “You don't mean that he's actually here, do you? I don't believe for a moment that he'd join you in this insanity.”

“He is.. not happy with me for this, I admit, and no, he wasn't part of the idea. But he's waiting to speak with you via holocall. I was hoping that perhaps you would be willing to listen to his side, if not mine. I know we have too much between us for you to really give me a fair hearing.”

“Are you -really- going to imply that I'm being unfair, right now? Have you noticed that you've rendered me unconscious twice and kidnapped me in order to get me here?” he pointed out helpfully. “You're not seriously pretending somehow this is my fault.”

“I'm only saying that perhaps you would be more willing to listen to sense coming from Jace. Will you talk to him, Theron?”

“Of the two of you, I'd rather talk to him, yes.”

Satele nodded before exiting the room, and Theron couldn't help but notice that his rejection of her hadn't even made her wince. Not for the first time, he wondered what it was like to go through life encased in that much insulation from everyone around you. Maybe it was lonely, but if it was, Satele certainly didn't appear to mind.

**The Fury:**

Selirah was pacing impatiently in front of the holo when it lit up with Gelena's image. “Got 'em, boss. They've appropriated some of the abandoned soldier barracks. It's not far from the coordinates you gave me, so you can land here, and we'll go in from there. How far out are you?”

“Not very. We'll be there soon. If they're using Empire facilities, you should be able to track any communications they use. Start checking for it, and let me know if you heard anything when we arrive.”

“Alright, boss. See you.” 

Arcann emerged from the bridge, crossing the floor to her side. “Another hour or so, and we'll be there. Lyorek is very comfortable flying the Fury,” he added, apparently apropos of nothing. Selirah cast a glance up at him, a ghost of a smile touching her lips at the studiously bland expression in his blue eyes. 

“He had the same type of ship, though I don't think Theron had any luck finding his like he did mine. Nox would be able to fly it easily too. So would just about any Sith on Dromund Kaas. Neither of them has ever been more than an acquaintance or a friend to me. Now put your pointless jealousy aside, keella. We need to focus on getting Theron back.”

The prince gave her an unrepentant smile, bending to kiss her. “Do you think he knows we are on our way?”

“A better question would be if Satele knows we are on our way, and if so.. how much of a welcoming party she will have for us.”


	24. End Of The Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daring rescues ensue. Selirah gets pretty pissed off and carried away. Satele is very lucky that Lyorek came along for the fun. Theron and Arcann get a little bonding time on a swoop bike.

The landing pad at Nox's surprisingly spacious Yavin property was rocky and sheer, open to a vast drop on three sides, but Lyorek set the ship down with a sure hand. Selirah was the first one off the ship, and Gelena was waiting for them. 

“Surprised Nox would just let me come to her little hangout,” the smuggler remarked, slyly. “This place is -full- of valuables. Like a candy store to someone like me.”

“I think Nox knows as well as you do what would happen to you if anything went missing from her.. little.. hangout,” Selirah answered. “She's like a krayt dragon about her research and artifacts, and even I wouldn't care to raise her ire about it. Or Lyo's for that matter.. he spends nearly as much time here as Nox does.” 

Lyorek flashed a toothy grin at the smuggler, and she shook her head at the tall Zabrak, chuckling. “That's not a reassuring expression, Sith. Don't worry, I haven't touched anything other than the bikes, and they're ready to go. Target's marked in the computers. Guards are minimal. I'm not sure which rooms they're in, but the place isn't too big.”

Three lightsabers lit briefly, two simultaneously, purple and gold, and then a red dualsaber. Lyorek spun his saber in a showy figure eight, and then the blade hissed off again. “Just the three of us, for.. containment?” the Zabrak asked, his eyes crimson and gold against the black and red of his face. 

“No. Gelena, I want you to find Yariele, and then take her back here. Don't wait for us.” Selirah emphasized the last sentence pointedly, and Gelena nodded.

“Get the Jedi, and bug out. Got it, boss. We ready to go? I'm guessing you don't feel like wasting a lot of time in planning.”

“What is there to plan? We get Yariele and Theron, explain the error of Satele's ways to her, and leave her to think about it here. For a while.” Lyorek's amused grin echoed Gelena's, and the smuggler laughed. 

“Get the Jedi, blow the ship, and bug out, then. I got it,” she amended.

“Let's go.”

**Abandoned Empire barracks:**

As the holo lit up with Jace's bulky form, his scarred face looking older and more tired than the last time he had seen him, Theron cast a pointed glare at Satele where she stood near the door, leaning against the wall. “Don't trust me alone in here, Satele?”

“I know better than to leave you with access to a holo and no one to watch you, Theron. Give me a little credit. You'd just bring your Sith down on our heads all the faster.”

Jace sighed gustily, the sound carrying easily over holo. “Both of you, stop it. Satele, this was foolishness. I told you that Theron was not going to listen to you, and more, that you were risking the extremely fragile peace we're maintaining between ourselves and the Alliance.”

Theron made a rude noise, and Jace's attention turned to his son. “Theron, you know Satele is right. You'd just signal the Empress. I know as well as you both do that she's probably already searching for you, and we have no way of knowing how close she is to arriving. So stow the attitude for now, let's all be adults, here.”

“I'm not going to listen to any talk of rejoining the Republic, Jace. I hope you know that, and I sincerely hope you will take me seriously when I say it. I have no desire to leave the Alliance. I'm not constantly hobbled by bureaucracy and red tape, I can do my job, and I'm valued for the work that I do.” Theron sat down on the edge of the table, his legs stretched out in front of himself comfortably. “I told Satele this on Rishi. She's the one who had to escalate it because I didn't fall in line with her vision for me.”

“That's -not- why I took you from Rishi, Theron. I wish you'd stop attributing the worst possible motivations to every action that I take..”

“I wish you'd stop taking actions that no one supports and pretending you're doing the right thing!”

Jace waited for a moment or two, but they just kept arguing, Satele in a mild, calm way, Theron increasingly agitated and almost yelling. Finally he bellowed, “SHUT UP! Satele, this is utter foolishness. You need to come to terms with the fact that you chose to distance yourself from Theron when you could have come closer to him and given him a reason to stay with the Republic. You had your chance, and it's -long- past now. Stop trying to force him to see things your way. It's doing nothing but making an enemy of our son.”

Theron felt a stab of pain at Jace's words. “Our son”. He'd never felt like he was anyone's son at all, not all through childhood, though Master Zho had been a kind mentor and friend, and even a father figure of sorts. It hadn't been enough, when he'd turned out to have no ability to touch the force. Then he'd just been abandoned again. Every time he'd seen his mother, she'd turned her back on him again, or kept him at arm's length, and by the time he'd met Jace, it'd just felt too late to make a relationship with him that was anything other than a sort of awkwardly strange friendship with someone who was technically his father, but in actuality was a hero of the Republic and a public figure who couldn't really be a dad for him. He didn't resent Jace for it.. it hadn't been his fault any more than it was Theron's. All that blame could be laid at his mother's feet.

But it didn't make him feel any better to admit that, even to himself.

He could feel Satele's eyes on him, and knew she probably had felt his emotional pain. But even now, she couldn't respond to it, would never be the kind of person to say “Let's start over”, or “I never want to hurt you”.

“Theron,” Jace continued more gently, “Satele had good intentions, even if her method leaves a lot to be desired. Try to understand that. I'm not going to say that you should forgive her for her actions, or that you should feel anything different than what you probably do. I know that we've both made a huge mess of your life. I hate to admit it, because.. I -would- like you to come back to the Republic. I think we could use people like you, and I would have liked to have the chance to know you better. But the truth is.. You've made your choice, and I respect that, son. “

The entire building suddenly shook with the force of an explosion. Theron could hear running feet outside, and shouting voices. The sudden growl of a lightsaber outside in the hall made Satele straighten, and she stood back from the door, lighting her own dualsaber and falling into a defensive posture before Theron. 

“It'd be better if I stood in front of you, Satele. I'm not the one that is in danger,” Theron observed sarcastically, earning a sour look from the Jedi. A second explosion rocked the walls of the building, and something hit the door with a significant amount of force. It blew off the hinges violently, spinning into the room and into the wall. 

He saw his mother start to react, likely to shield or defend them both, but a black-clad Twi'lek figure stepped through the dust and smoke billowing in the hallway, and with a negligent gesture, Selirah rammed her own power straight through Satele's shields and lifted her off her feet. Satele dropped her saber in shock, her hands clawing at her throat, feet kicking helplessly in response to the pressure around her neck, throttling her air. Reaching out with one hand, the Jedi lifted the metal door from its resting position against the wall, and flung it directly at Selirah, but she didn't lose focus or even spare a glance at the projectile. Instead, Arcann's power blocked the door's trajectory, protecting Selirah and himself, and it slammed off the force barrier, falling to the floor again with a clang.

“Theron! Tell me what's.....” Jace shouted, and Theron slapped a hand down on the holo, disconnecting it abruptly. Selirah hadn't even looked at him yet, her attention all for Satele. Her eyes were glowing with fury, and Arcann stood behind her in the doorway, his back to her and his gaze fixed on the hall to make sure they were not interrupted. Theron saw another dark-clad Sith dart by in the hall, batting aside blaster bolts with a crimson dualsaber as he pursued the guards.

“Let's make a deal, Satele, shall we?” Selirah said flatly, opening her hand slightly to permit the Jedi a bit more air to breathe. Theron hesitated, torn between trying to intervene and the knowledge that doing so could be very dangerous, even for him. “You will promise to never contact Theron again without his permission, to never attempt to force him to do anything again, and apologize for what you've done here that resulted in the death of Republic soldiers, all of which is SOLELY on your shoulders.” 

“Fine. I'm sorry for all of this, Theron. And in return?” Satele managed, her voice sounding hoarse and choked. Theron folded his arms across his chest, his hands tightly fisted with the effort of staying out of it.

“I won't kill you today, and I won't attack your worlds for this affront, even though I feel that I would be completely justified in deciding to respond forcefully to your actions.” Selirah's gaze moved past the helpless Jedi to take in Theron, looking him over in a quick assessing glance. “You're lucky that he isn't harmed, or absolutely nothing would stop me, Satele. I would destroy everything you've built. Theron is not yours to control. You gave him up. He's made his choice, and you don't have to like it, but you do have to accept it.” She gestured at Theron with her saber, and he moved towards her, taking up a position behind Seli. 

Her grip tightened briefly, enough to watch Satele's eyes widen and her legs kick again as she began to choke, and then she flung Satele back against the far wall violently. Her saber flashed through the air, coming down with precision on the holo, slicing it into two neat pieces. “I'm sure that Jace Malcolm will send someone to get you. Perhaps you can use the wait to think about the wisdom of taking responsibility for your actions, and the repercussions of them. Those soldiers outside.. you dragged them into this. Don't try to shy away from the fact that they'd all be alive if you hadn't done that.” 

Selirah's saber spun in an idle circle, and she looked at Satele in a considering, predatory manner, still crumpled down against the wall, shaking off the disorientation. Arcann turned around to look at Satele too, and Theron glanced from him to Seli's back, frowning. The Twi'lek took another slow step forward towards the Jedi Master, and Arcann paled suddenly, wavering on his feet. Theron slid over to his side, wrapping his arm around the other man's waist as Lyorek abruptly appeared on the other side of him, almost like he'd come out of thin air. 

“Selirah!” Lyo called impatiently, waiting until she glanced at him and somehow not quailing before the narrow eyed glare she fixed on him. “Time to go. You're finished here.”

“Don't tell me when I'm finished,” she snarled, and Arcann tried to push both of them off him, as if he was going to go to help her. Lyorek tightened his hand on Arcann's shoulder, just past his cybernetic arm, gripping him firmly to the point of pain. Selirah winced sharply at the same moment as Arcann, and rounded on Lyorek furiously. “Stop that!”

“No. Be pissed at me when we're out of here, but we need to go, boc'ara.” The Zabrak made a rude gesture at Seli, and she came at him suddenly in a blur of fury, slamming into him and knocking him loose from Arcann and Theron, who staggered at the sudden weight of Arcann's body against his. Both of them rolled out into the hallway and the sound of Lyorek's saber igniting growled in the enclosed space.

Getting his feet under him, Theron took a last look at his mother, getting slowly to her feet, and turned around, heading out into the hall without a word to her. He could hear the two Sith shouting insults at each other, and saw a burst of purple lightning sparking outside. For a moment, Theron questioned his life choices; because his first thought was to go -towards- the murderous Sith lightning, but.. it was where Lyo and Seli were clearly located, so he staggered that way, hefting most of Arcann's weight against his side. He was going to need Lyorek's strength to help him if Arcann stopped even supporting the small amount of himself that he was, so hopefully Selirah wasn't busy killing him.

Coming out of the barracks, Theron could see the smoking ruin of the ship he'd arrived in, and that there were just enough speeder bikes for them. “Yariele,” he said suddenly, realizing he hadn't even thought about the captive Jedi before this moment, shame suffusing him. “We have to find her.”

“Gelena got her earlier, she's long gone with her, back at Nox's,” Arcann answered sluggishly, his words almost slurred. He sounded slightly drunk, or incredibly exhausted, or a mixture of both. “She's alright, Theron. You're going to have to hold on for both of us, I think.”

“I'm not going to let you fall off after you came here for me, Arcann. She was taking power from you, wasn't she.. using you like a battery?” He asked, settling the bigger man on the speeder bike and climbing on behind him. It wasn't going to be easy to use the controls from this position, but he'd be able to hold the prince on the bike this way and not have to worry about him falling off the back in mid-air. 

“I gave it to her, Theron, don't say it like she didn't ask. She needed it. Your mother is strong and she didn't want to be well-matched. Selirah wanted to overpower her completely,” he replied slowly. He sounded a little better, so Theron assumed that whatever Lyorek had been trying to do by irritating Selirah had worked. Arcann patted Theron's hand where it was wrapped around his middle, and he could hear the amusement in the prince's gravelly voice as he added, “See, now you get to touch, so enjoy it while you can.”

Theron made a surprised and embarrassed little laugh, his chin resting on Arcann's broad shoulder as the two Sith limped back into sight. Selirah looked sulky and her armor was smoking, but she didn't look angry, and Lyorek was holding his arm and limping, but had his usual cocky smile firmly in place. “You say that now, but it's never an invitation when we're all actually in bed and not in the field. I'm starting to think you might be a bit of a tease.”

“Might be,” the prince agreed tiredly, but Theron could see that he was smiling faintly, his face close against Arcann's as they settled onto the bike. Theron fired it up, waiting till the thrusters stabilized.

Selirah and Lyorek took the last two bikes, and as they led the way back to Nox's compound, Theron saw his mother in the doorway of the building. He looked at her for a moment, then gunned the power on the speeder, shooting after the two Sith.

It was probably his imagination; that small part of him that was still a boy who wanted his mother to love him. But Theron could have sworn that Satele had looked sorrowful in that last moment, as he had sent the bike into the air.

Wishful thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twi'leki notes: Boc'ara means "Idiot" or literally "Smart like a rock".
> 
> And no, Theron did not get the bit of information that she was hiding out of Satele. I know what it is, and I didn't forget it. It's just not time for it to be revealed. ;)
> 
> Also, thanks a lot, Crumpet, cause now I've been listening to Fire Meet Gasoline for literally like five hours straight. *sighs at my life choices much like Theron has to at his*


	25. Imagine That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Theron have a talk. Arcann and Theron also have a talk. There's a lot of talking.

**Nox's Private Complex (Yavin):**

The moment the speeder touched down, Lyorek took Arcann towards the massive temple structure, leading him up the stairs past a pair of patient guards while Selirah was waiting to greet Theron, pulling him off the speeder, flinging her arms around him. “Never do that to me again, Theron. Never,” she ordered, kissing him fiercely. He staggered backwards and caught her against him, his arms tightening around her waist. “You don't know how lost I am without you.”

He closed his eyes, his hands sliding to her hips, holding her close to him. Theron rested his forehead against hers, feeling the warmth of her skin and the touch of her hands brushing the back of his neck, fingers slipping into the short-cropped hair there. “Are you?” he asked softly, opening his eyes again to look down at her, into her relieved lavender gaze. “Is it a bad thing that I'm glad to hear that?”

“I'll tell you any time you wish, love. It's the truth. I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to you,” Selirah admitted, leaning up on her toes to kiss him again, lingering over it indulgently, her lips soft and yielding. “Sometimes I wish we were just no one of importance. Moisture farmers. Crystal miners. Raising nerfs. Anything but what we are.”

“You'd be incredibly bored in no time, Seli. And we would never have met, I imagine, if it hadn't been for who you are, who I am, who Arcann is.. and that's true of everyone in our Alliance. A quiet life seems nice at times like this, but I'm not sure any of us would want obscurity over what we've accomplished together,” Theron said gently, his lips curving into a smile as he looked down at her. “The force would never have let you be obscure, love, no matter how hard you tried.”

She shrugged, stepping back, her hand staying in his as she led him towards the stone edifice of Nox's temple home. The guards snapped to attention as she passed, but Selirah barely even glanced at them, walking through the massive building and up to the second level. Emerging out onto a wide stone walkway that led across a turbulently spilling waterfall, she chose one of the benches facing the view out over the forested vista of Yavin's surface, settling down onto it with one leg tucked up under the other. Theron sat next to her, leaning back against the bench and gazing out across the treetops. 

“I doubt that Nox even notices how beautiful this place is,” Selirah said quietly. “She is not that kind of person, really. It's just an ideal place to hide all of her weird experiments and artifacts, and to do all of her extensive studying about obscure Sith rituals.” Voice trailing off, she leaned in against Theron's side, her arms slipping gently around his waist, cheek against his shoulder. “Are you alright, Theron?”

Theron sighed, considering her words, and the complexity of the deceptively simple question. He knew she didn't mean physically.. he was fine, but.. “I don't know. I'm not sure why I keep letting her have openings to hurt me. I know who she is, and that she's not going to change. It's just been too long. If she was going to rethink her choices, she would have already done it, right?”

Selirah tilted her head slightly so that she could look at him, her response slow and cautious. “I think that Satele is who she is. She's made peace with her path and she won't deviate from it. That doesn't mean that I think she has no regrets, Theron. I can't pretend to understand her. We are too different in every possible way, but... knowing you the way that I do, I have to think that she wishes she'd known you better somehow. I don't know how anyone could fail to want to know you after meeting you.” Theron looked startled at her words, and Selirah felt her heart tighten painfully at the expression on his face. “Theron, the fact that you don't know your effect on other people at all is probably the thing I find the most unforgivable about your mother's actions. I don't understand how you could doubt yourself the way you do.”

He held her closer, his arm around her shoulders, fingers tracing idly over her upper arm. “I suppose I just don't know what I can possibly do at this point to be good enough. Some part of me thinks that maybe she would care about me if I'd been force sensitive. But I was defective, and failed to meet her hopes and expectations for me, and I've been a disappointment ever since. My many failures culminated in me choosing to defect to side with the most notorious Sith from the Empire short of the Emperor.”

“Technically, I had him too, at the time,” Selirah pointed out helpfully, giving him a teasing smile and provoking a laugh from him. 

“That's true. So you were -both- of the most notorious Sith from the Empire, and I defected to your side. I'm pretty sure I can't get more disappointing to Satele at this point. Of course, I keep thinking that, and then somehow, I dig a deeper hole for myself in her eyes. Like.. defecting to a notorious Sith and also falling in love with her.”

“Theron, there's nothing about you that is disappointing. The person that you are is exactly who you were meant to be, and if she finds that to be a failure or not enough to meet her standards, than her standards are probably a target that you'd never have hit no matter what you did. She'd just keep moving it if you got too close.” She leaned up, pressing a kiss to the line of his jaw, her gaze lingering on his profile affectionately. “If making the most notorious Sith in the Empire fall in love with you isn't enough of an accomplishment for a former Republic spy, I'm not sure what else you could have done. I do love you, and I'll spend the rest of both of our lives showing you how valuable you are to me. Your mother is a lot of things.. she's accomplished, smart, powerful, influential, and was a huge thorn in the Empire's side for years and still is one, for that matter. But she's also wrong, and it's alright for you to say that about her. She is wrong, and how she's treated you is wrong, and that's her mistake to live with. It shouldn't be yours.”

Theron turned to look at Seli, his hazel eyes showing glimmers of green and brown in the depths. “I know that you're right, love, I do. But it's hard to stop wanting her to care about me, even just a little bit. I get that you don't understand that need, but I can't make myself be okay with my mother not wanting anything to do with me. Not easily.”

She nodded, one hand coming up to stroke fingers along the edge of his jawline, cupping his cheek as she looked at him. “I admit, I don't understand that urge at all.. I barely remember my family at all, and I don't even know if I'd recognize them if I saw them again. But maybe you should try talking it through with Arcann sometime. If anyone understands how hard it is to have a difficult relationship with a distant parent...” she pointed out reasonably. “I just want you to know that to me, you will always be more than good enough. I would have gone to war with them to get you back. I still would, so let's both hope that she never tries this particular gambit again, hmm?”

Theron's cheeks colored, and she could feel his skin warming under her fingers, sense the pleasure he felt at her declaration, and see his eyes widen slightly in surprise at her words. “I don't want you to go to war over me, that's not a good reason, at all,” he stammered out after a moment.

“Yes, you do. And yes.. it is. It's the best reason. You may not be ready to believe that anyone could love you so much that they'd declare war for you. But I do, and I would. Believe me when I say that, Theron, because I don't say things that I don't mean.” Selirah disentangled herself from him gently, giving him another kiss before she stood. “I'm going to talk to the others and make plans to head back to Odessen, love. We'll get you when it's time to go, if you'd like a little time to yourself.”

She was gone before Theron could even put together a response to her astonishing words. He stretched out his legs, tucking his hands behind his head, fingers interlocked, and closed his eyes, letting the sound of the waterfall wash away the ugly disappointment of every moment he'd spent with his mother. Selirah was right; he'd let Satele move the target again and again throughout his life. It hurt, thinking of consciously acknowledging that his mother would never be more than the person who gave birth to him; would never be an actual mother to him, or even someone he could trust or think of as a friend, like Jace. For Satele, other things would always be more important, more vital, and more worth supporting than her son. He hated that knowledge. But it was time that he accepted it as reality.

“I'd offer a credit for your thoughts, but as Seli is so fond of reminding me, she stole all of my credits.” Arcann's deep voice interrupted Theron's reverie, and he opened one eye, a faint smile touching his lips. The prince looked mostly recovered from the rescue operation, though he still looked somewhat tired. “May I join you, or would you prefer to be alone? I won't be offended, if that's the case, Theron. I would understand.”

“No. Come sit, it's fine. I probably shouldn't be left alone with my thoughts too much just yet. All it's doing is making me feel worse,” Theron admitted. Arcann sat next to him on the bench, looking out over the sunlit vista of the forest. The mist in the air from the waterfall made the sunlight sparkle on the air, and the view -was- beautiful, but he'd never really seen the prince as someone who valued the beauty of the land very much, and he was pretty sure that Arcann wasn't really looking at the trees, or the bright sky above them. No, he'd come out here for a reason, and was thinking about that.

A few minutes later, Arcann finally proved Theron's theory correct, his low voice only just carrying over the rumble of the water behind them past the edge of the stone edge of the bridge. “I know it's strange to think of us having anything in common other than Selirah, Theron. We are completely different people, you and I. But I think that we may have more in common than either of us realized, initially. I just... “ He paused, inhaling slowly, his chest rising and falling with the deep breath, as if he were steeling himself to say something difficult. “I think that it's hard for Seli to understand how you can crave acceptance from someone even after they have hurt you a thousand times. She has no family bonds but the ones she has chosen. She made her family. We .. weren't able to do that in the same way, and we are hobbled by both having family members that have rejected us.”

Theron glanced at the other man, asking carefully, “I know you mean Valkorian, but.. do you.. did you feel like Senya rejected you when she left you as children?”

The prince nodded, his blue eyes briefly touching on Theron's face, his expression sober and wistful. “We turned on her, refused to go with her. But we were children, and foolish.. and I think none of us really thought that she would actually go. When she did, it just drove us harder to pursue our father's approval. And we were never going to receive that. But, Theron, it didn't stop us from pushing ourselves further and further to get it. I went to war against his wishes because I thought it was necessary; that I had to excel, to grind the Republic and Empire under my boot and show him what I'd done. That he'd love me if I was triumphant. And it cost me my arm, my face, and my twin, and then the cost only grew much larger from there. I understand that you want your mother to see you and love you. But the cost of begging for love that will never be returned can be steep.”

It was the most that Arcann had said to him at one time, and Theron was caught off guard by the prince's openness and willingness to expose his pain to him. He still hadn't looked at Theron for long, other than that one brief glance, and it was obvious that he was struggling with revealing too much, or overstepping their fragile connection to each other. Theron wondered briefly if Selirah had sent him out here to talk to him, but then he felt a little ashamed of himself for questioning something that was definitely not easy for the prince to do. “You're right.. about Seli making her own family. It's something that both of us would probably benefit from, too. Maybe I'd stop doing this to myself every time Satele deigns to speak to me, if I didn't feel like I needed her love.”

“It's hard to stop wanting a parent's love. But there are many people here in the Alliance who care about your well-being, Theron, and they could be better friends to you, if you would let them. Believe me,” Arcann admitted, finally looking at Theron directly, a dry smile touching the edges of his lips, “I know that it's not easy to let other people in when you expect them to reject you. But these people are not Satele Shan. They deserve a chance to show you that they are different. And maybe you should start letting yourself believe that you deserve better from the people in your life. You are not held back by the things that I've done. People like you, Theron, and you do deserve to have a family that values you.”

Theron hardly knew how to respond to Arcann's words, but the prince didn't seem to expect him to say anything. He reached out, resting his cybernetic hand lightly on Theron's shoulder. “Come on. Let's go see if they're ready to head home to Odessen,” he invited, getting to his feet and offering a hand to Theron to stand up. “I'm sure you'd like to put some distance between you and Yavin, at least for a while.”

“It'd probably be a good idea. And who knows how long Nox's hospitality offer will hold?” Theron joked. “Her tolerance for Selirah doesn't seem to extend to anyone else but Lyorek and Talos.”

“An even better reason to get off this moon as quickly as possible,” Arcann agreed, leading the way down to the main level to rejoin the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theron has a lot of baggage. Like.. a LOT of baggage. In this particular bag, though, he has company. And sometimes understanding comes from a surprising source. ;)
> 
> Also, check me out posting at a reasonable hour. I'm like a normal person today! (It won't last)


	26. We're In This Together Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Social events annoy everyone except Lyorek and Indo Zal. The men hear a bit of information and use it to fuel some private celebration. (There's smut.)

Less than a week after their return from Yavin, Selirah found herself standing in the middle of her chambers in the Spire, while Indo Zal circled her, tweaking the fall of the dress she was wearing with critical fingers. “I'm not sure this one is … regal enough,” he mused, waving a hand at the long-suffering seamstress who had been working on several options.

“Why am I going to this event, again?” Seli asked in a bored tone, glancing down at herself. “And why can't I just wear my armor?”

“Your presence would lend a great deal to this event, Empress. It's simple enough, drinks and music and some society people. You needn't stay too long, but the people, -your- people, need to see you among them.” Indo picked out another dress and held it out to her, having learned already to immediately avert his eyes lest he catch an eyeful of the Empress in her natural state. She had no discomfort with simply dropping the previous gown and pulling on the next one, and after the first two times, Indo had learned to close his eyes while offering a new option.

True to form, Selirah slid the current dress off immediately, stepping out of it. She took the new one and held it up, eyeing it with a faint frown. “Really, red?”

“You're absolutely right.” Indo selected a deep, rich purple dress, single shouldered and slinky, with a long opening from hem to nearly mid-thigh up one leg, and held it out to her without looking at her.

The red dress was tossed summarily to the seamstress, who caught it frantically, smoothing the delicate silk with one hand as Selirah slid the new dress up over her hips and into place, settling the folds of fabric. “This one will do, then. I'd still prefer armor. And you'll need to put together something for Theron and Arcann.” 

“Already done, Empress. They're being fitted by the staff even as we speak. The event is tonight at the restored rooftop garden. There will be holocameras, so please try to keep that in mind.” 

“Indo, I am always perfectly behaved,” Selirah replied, giving the frazzled man a wide smile. 

“You are rarely anything of the sort, Empress. My hope springs eternal that this event will go smoothly.”

“You needn't worry about a thing. Everything you plan goes smoothly. Even rebellions! Which you hopefully have no intention to plan again?” Stepping down as the seamstress finished her work pinning the hem, Selirah dropped the purple dress, letting the silk slither down over her hips and to the floor just in time for Arcann and Theron to both arrive in the doorway. 

“Of course not, Empress. I have almost nothing to complain about these days. It's very tiresome indeed for someone who thrives upon personal unhappiness, as I do,” Indo replied with good humor. “Yet I'm sure you will find something to do that will upset me tonight. As always.”

“I hope that's not what you're wearing tonight, Seli. I think you'd scandalize the nobles,” Theron remarked, fetching her robe and draping it around her shoulders. 

“She wouldn't arrive at the party until very late, if that's what she was wearing,” Arcann added, giving her an amused look. “If at all.”

“The Empress -will- be wearing clothing, gentlemen, and so will you. Now, I have work to do, so I'll leave you to your own tasks. Don't be late!” Indo Zal frowned pointedly at Arcann and Selirah both before leaving with the seamstress bustling in his wake, her arms full of dresses.

“He never says that to me,” Theron remarked. “I wonder why.”

“Indo counts on you to make sure that the two of us spoiled libertines actually get where we're supposed to at the right time,” Selirah teased, leaning up on her bare toes to kiss Theron, then Arcann. “I trust you both were appropriately dressed as well?”

“Define 'appropriate',” Arcann replied. “I had to forcefully decline quite a few embellishments, as did Theron. But I think we will be suitable escorts for our refined, elegant Empress. As long as she remembers that the centerpieces are not snacks this time.”

“They're snacks if you can digest them, and I can. I was hungry.”

“I don't think Indo will make the mistake of not having plenty of acceptable dishes for you to choose from again after that incident.” Theron laughed, shaking his head. “The look on his face was pretty amazing, though. I don't think he understood Twi'lek eating habits.”

“Speaking of which.. I'm going to eat something before this thing so I'm not starving. Send me anything that I need to look at, so Indo doesn't have a fit at me for working during his social party.” Selirah smiled wryly, heading off in search of food, still clad in her robe and barefoot.

“Theron,” Arcann said suddenly, as if he'd been specifically waiting for Seli to leave before he said anything. “Did Lyorek say anything to you today about Selirah?”

“Like what? I only saw him for a few minutes. I don't think he said anything of particular interest. Why?”

“He told me that it was her birthday. Do you know if that's the case?”

Theron thought about it and shook his head. “She never talks about her birthday. How would Lyorek know that it's today?”

Arcann shrugged one shoulder, folding his arms across his chest. “How does he know most of the things he does? Regardless, he told me that it was her birthday. I thought perhaps we should do something for her.”

“Something like... what? It's not as if there's anything that she couldn't have for the asking. She's the Empress. There's an entire staff of people just in this building, much less on Odessen, who would leap to bring her any exotic item she wanted,” Theron said with a laugh, sitting down on the couch and picking up his datapad, opening up the day's reports. “I don't think there's much we could give her.”

Arcann eyed Theron for a moment. “You can't think of -anything- she might enjoy that only we can give her?” he said dryly. “Try a little harder, Theron.” The moment that it finally dawned on him was well-worth it. Theron's face turned red by degrees, and Arcann laughed at the expression that he wore. “Just an idea, of course. But it -is- something that we can give her that she doesn't already have.”

“You don't.. um. I'm not sure how to put this, exactly, but you don't really seem to be interested in that. At least, not with me. Not that I'm saying you seem interested in it with other people.. Can we please not be talking about this anymore? I'm not sure I can handle being much more embarrassed.” 

“I was more implying all three of us together than necessarily me and you. I'm not going to put you through a wall if you touch me, Theron. I'd think you'd know that at this point. We've been sleeping together for weeks and I hate to be the one to inform you of this but.. you've already touched me plenty of times,” Arcann pointed out reasonably. “Anyway, I'm just saying that maybe she would be interested in the idea of not having to always find a way to make it work separately.” 

“Can I ask you something?” When the other man nodded for him to continue, Theron asked, “What is it like for you, having that bond with her?”

Brows arched lightly over blue eyes in surprise, Arcann paused, considering the question. “In general.. it's not always 'on', so to speak. Most of the time, I need to consciously want to reach out to her for it to be something I'm actively feeling. I can feel her emotions, sense thoughts sometimes. We've shared dreams in the past, unconsciously or consciously.. it's a bit like when we're facing an enemy and we've deliberately opened the bond as widely as we can. We become intensely aware of each other, and it can be a little disorienting. Like I'm her, or she's me.”

“You talk to her, too, I know. Sometimes she has that look, like she's listening to something that I can't hear. You get it as well, from time to time.”

“It isn't simple talking exactly, but.. yes, we can communicate, and we can sense each other's presence very strongly, which is why we can find each other easily. I know if I'm close or farther away from her, and which direction she is in a general sense.”

Theron fell silent, and it wasn't until Arcann looked like he was going to leave the room that he got the courage to finish his question. “What about other times?”

“You mean in bed?” The prince glanced at him, humor glinting in his gaze. “That's harder to explain without more of an understanding of how it feels to be able to feel things through the force. The best way to put it is that it's like experiencing both sides of the pleasure. I can feel what she feels, and she can feel what I feel. Emotionally, physically, everything.” 

Finding it suddenly impossible to look at the other man with that kind of thought in his head, Theron simply nodded in understanding. “So.. about that um.. birthday present that you mentioned earlier. If you're really suggesting it, then I guess I'm alright with it.”

“Somehow, I knew that you would be.” Arcann turned around, heading for the door, tossing back over his shoulder, “You can think about it, give it some time. We still have to get through this party tonight.”

Theron closed his eyes, scrubbing his fingers through his hair absently. Once the prince was gone, he said out loud to the empty room, “Right. And now I just have to figure out how to -stop- thinking about it so I can get some work done.”

**Zakuul, Spire Rooftop Gardens:**

The gardens were lit beautifully, with strings of tiny sparkling lights that filtered through the trees. Delicately draped fabric was looped through the branches and over the tables, filmy silk in different shades. The small round tables were set along the paved pathways, staggered to create conversational nooks, and a band was set up in the far corner of the garden. 

Arcann watched Selirah from the table reserved for their use, picking idly at the food on his plate. She had been making the rounds of the party for over an hour, dancing with all the nobles, and twice with Lyorek, who was here overseeing the work with the Scion histories. Indo could not complain about anything tonight; the party had gone off without a hitch, and she was regal and charming, the force lending her an extra grace on the dance floor beyond what was granted to her already by her heritage. 

She was with Theron right now on the dance floor, and they made a beautiful couple, catching far more pairs of eyes than just his. Everyone was watching them, curious about the leader they had now after bearing so much turmoil and destruction wrought by his family line. Despite everything that they had done to Zakuul, though, Arcann was far more welcome here than on Odessen, where he was still viewed with resentment and open hostility from many of the people in the Alliance base. He knew it was earned, but even so.. it was easier to be here, where he was treated like the prince he had always been raised to think of himself as by his father. Perhaps that was not something he should enjoy.. but it was still nice to get a break sometimes from the frowns and whispered comments about the things he had done.

Sinking into himself with a wave of self-pity, emptying another glass of wine, he barely noticed that Selirah was looking over at him until she was crossing the grass to the table. As he glanced up, forcing a smile to his lips, he noticed her shoes were in Theron's hand and she was barefoot, and felt his forced smile turn into a real one at the sight of her bare toes under the hem of the elegant silk gown. “Indo will have a fit,” Arcann said quickly, trying to distract her from the mood that had drawn her attention. “I don't think barefoot is what he sees as befitting to an Empress.”

“Indo can kiss the south end of a northbound nexu,” Selirah said dismissively. “I've done his party and mingled, and now I want to go to our room and spend time with the only people here that I actually enjoy being with.” 

“I heard that,” called Lyorek as he spun a dark-haired Zakuulan lady out on the dance floor. The Zabrak flashed a grin at the group by the Empress' table, and pantomimed shock when Selirah's only response was a rude gesture as she left for the elevator to the royal residence level of the Spire, Arcann and Theron following. 

It was Theron who first broached the subject as they settled into the comfort and solitude of Selirah's suite, casting a glance at Arcann as he spoke, “What with today being a special occasion, we.. Arcann and I.. spoke earlier about finding a memorable way to mark the day.”

“I don't know if I'd call it a -special- occasion,” Selirah remarked. She was sprawled comfortably across the bed with her legs across Arcann's lap, while he idly rubbed her legs with his right hand, the left resting on her ankle. “But far be it from me to deny you both the opportunity to plot.”

“It's absolutely a special occasion. You can't say that it isn't something that should be celebrated, Seli.” Boots discarded, Theron stripped off his party finery, realizing belatedly that Selirah's indifference towards nudity seemed to be infectious. Both he and Arcann had gotten a lot less concerned about each other's state of dress since they'd all started living together. It hardly mattered after a while, he supposed, when you were all sleeping in the same bed, tangled up together by the end of the night. Why bother being shy?

“Celebrate away. I don't mind enjoying any occasion you'd like, especially if it involves both of you,” she said slyly, her nails tracing idle circles on the inside of Arcann's thigh. “Does it?”

“As it happens, yes.” Arcann closed his eyes as her hand glided higher, trying to ignore the sudden flood of heat that he felt from her at his words and at the nearness of her fingers to his groin. “We thought it would make for an enjoyable surprise for you today.” 

“I don't know why today warrants such a present, but I'm definitely in support of it. You are a little overdressed for the occasion, keella, if we are all going to bed together.” 

Her nails slid further up the inside of Arcann's thigh, and he quivered visibly, inhaling and exhaling a few times in a vain attempt to regain control. The touch of her mind on his widened, and he groaned at the onslaught of her thoughts about all of them together, opening his eyes to give her a reproachful look. “That's unfair. This is going to be over faster than it starts if you keep doing that, Seli.”

“It's also unfair because I am not benefiting from it,” Theron pointed out, joining them on the bed. “But she's right.. you probably need to take a few things off, unless you'd rather watch.” He gave the other man a sly grin, his hands tracing over Selirah's crimson and black skin, pushing the silk gown off her shoulder and sliding the delicate fabric over her breasts, then lower. She sat up on the bed, scooting back to sit against Theron as he tugged the dress free of her legs, tossing it to the floor. Leaning back against Theron's shoulder, the Twi'lek wrapped his arms around her, letting him bring his hands up to cup her breasts lightly. His thumbs brushed over the tips of her nipples, and her breath caught in her throat, her eyes on Arcann as he stood to undress. 

She kept her gaze on him, watching him hotly as he slid his pants down over his hips and thighs. Theron's hands teased her nipples into tautness, lightly pinching her to make her gasp and arch against him, rubbing back against the firm length of his cock until she felt him shiver in response. Her fingers wrapped around him, hand moving between their bodies to close on his cock, stroking in a slow rhythm. Theron didn't bother to pretend that he wasn't looking at Arcann too, and she could feel his desire almost as easily as she could feel the prince's. 

Arcann's cocky half-smile made it very obvious that he didn't mind the attention, and as he rejoined them on the bed, he stretched out on his stomach, spreading Selirah's legs apart and trailing kisses up the inside of her thighs from knee to the sleek, hairless folds of her sex. His hands held her legs apart, letting her lean back against Theron for support as his mouth touched her in an intimate kiss, his tongue teasing her clit lightly at first, then more firmly as her hips began to move helplessly in response. Theron's hands moved from her breasts to her stomach, then down to her hips, holding her still for Arcann's attentions. She turned her head to kiss him, and Theron obliged more than happily, taking the lead in the kissing; mostly because within a minute or so, Selirah was far too distracted by what Arcann was doing to her to be able to do anything but enjoy the long, deep, drugging kisses he was giving her, his hands on the full, soft skin of her breasts. 

Arcann stayed down there till mere seconds before she came, ruthlessly using their link to pinpoint the moment she was about to lose control and then stopping suddenly. Her hips snapped upwards sharply as he pulled away, and she growled into Theron's mouth in frustration, her body quivering tautly on the precipice of orgasm for a long, deliciously aggravating moment. Theron pulled her down onto the bed with him, his tongue tip brushing against hers as he repositioned her to face him. She straddled him, rocking her hips slowly to glide against his painfully hard cock, grinding slowly and forcing a groan from his lips, the sound muffled against her lips. She finally guided his cock inside her with one hand, pushing down over him inch by slow inch as she watched Theron's beautiful eyes darken with lust and pleasure. 

She could feel Arcann lean over to the bedside table, and she could hear him/feel him open a bottle, tipping droplets of lube onto his palm before smoothing it onto himself, his hand gliding wetly over his erect cock behind her. Their bond wide open, it was a bit like watching her own hand on him while he felt what she felt with each slow thrust of her hips over Theron's cock. Seli let Arcann feel her own desire and arousal, and the attraction she felt for Theron, and how it felt to have him buried inside her, and in return, as he pressed against her from behind, letting himself slide hotly between the curves of her ass, she got to feel the sublime pleasure that Arcann felt when he pushed against her slowly and carefully from behind, starting to enter her. She closed her eyes, going still over Theron, and he slid his hands up her hips to her waist, holding her gently through the first few moments of adjustment. Her breathing hitched, catching sharply in pain and mingled pleasure, and she shuddered under Arcann as he pushed deeper, knowing he could feel Theron inside her core, the two of them barely separated inside her. The mere feeling of what it felt like to him, and the exquisite, nearly painful fullness of it was nearly enough to make her come right then. Adding the sensation of intimacy with the three of them joined together like this.. stars, it was indescribable.

“Alright, love?” Theron asked softly, pulling her down to kiss her lips, her cheeks, her jaw with delicate brushes of his lips. She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak, and Theron cupped her face in his hands, holding it up as he moved first, thrusting into her as Arcann slid his hips back before pushing deep as Theron slid back out. She forced herself to open her eyes, watching the intensity of the pleasure in Theron's face, and feeling every minute sensation that Arcann felt as he took her from behind. They found a rhythm together, and when one of Theron's hands left her face to hold her waist for leverage, Arcann's fingers wrapped around his hand, both of them holding her, their thrusts growing rougher and less coordinated as the pleasure built to an unbearable pitch. Arcann's cybernetic fingers closed lightly around Selirah's throat, tightening slightly, and she shuddered in response, her breathing coming shorter, and the slight feeling of light-headedness made the pleasure intensify for her until she came apart between them, her back bowing tautly and her core clenching almost painfully tight around Theron's cock with her climax. He grunted in pleasure, hips snapping upwards once, then again, spilling into her hotly.

Arcann lasted a few minutes longer before the pleasure overrode his control, and he ground his hips against her from behind as she shivered with the aftershocks of her own climax, feeling him come deep inside her. Selirah's eyes closed, and she slumped down over Theron's shoulder, her breathing as ragged as both Theron's and Arcann's, feeling their hearts pounding against her. When they could move, the best effort anyone could manage at first was simply to roll onto their sides, Selirah wrapping a leg over Theron's hip, and Arcann still pressed tightly against her from behind. Rational thought took a lot longer to return, but then she slowly remembered their talk of a special occasion being the impetus for this particularly enjoyable evening. 

Apparently, Arcann remembered the same thing, or just felt her thinking about it, because he commented lazily, “Good enough birthday present? Lyorek told us about it this morning.” The bass rumble of his voice, breath warm and tickly against the back of her neck, made her quiver, and she chuckled softly in response. 

“A lovely birthday present, from both of you. But I confess that I hope it's not -only- a birthday present.” Leaning back against the prince, Selirah kissed Theron as Arcann wrapped an arm around both her and Theron, his hand resting on the other man's back. Theron tentatively mirrored the gesture on his side, his hand resting on Arcann's back, relaxing when Arcann didn't shift away or tense under his fingers.

“I don't know,” Arcann replied, laughing. “I think we'll just have to keep practicing to make sure it'll be alright with all of us, hmm Theron?”

“I'm not going to argue with that. Give me a minute and I'll be good to go again.”

Much (much) later, with both of them sleeping, and Theron in the middle to let Selirah get caught up on a few reports, she tapped out a quick message to Lyorek.

_I'm sure you think you're very clever. We both know it's not my birthday, though._

A few moments later, a reply came through as she was getting ready to go to sleep.

_I'll bet you fifty credits that you didn't tell -them- that while enjoying the fruits of my cleverness. Besides, it's probably your birthday on some planet. Enjoy!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was clobbered by some kind of evil cold, but as of today, I'm pretty convinced that I'm not going to expire. ;) Hopefully this is worth the small wait while I chugged Nyquil and slept a lot.


	27. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission to Corellia prepares to launch, and Selirah prepares her own covert mission in conjunction.

**Odessen:**

Lana's morning meetings were legendary, or more specifically, infamous, among the members of the Alliance. No one was even fully convinced that the woman slept, given that any time something happened, she was awake, dressed, and completely coherent as if she'd just been waiting for an emergency to occur. This morning, Lana was holding forth on the upcoming infiltration of the Corellian headquarters of the company that had been implicated in the explosion on Darvannis that had injured Selirah and killed two Mandalorians. 

Kass, Alyxia, and Torian were all present to hear the briefing. The Mandalorians were intent upon going along, though they had conceded the actual work of the infiltration to a more qualified choice when the goal was stealth and not destruction. Kass was lounging against a wall, talking in a low voice with Kaliyo, the two Rattataki women relaxed in each other's company. Kass' heavy armor was blaster marked and dented, as was Alyxia's black and red beskar armor, but the human Mandalorian still wore her helm, hiding her face from view. She stood near her husband, both of them with their arms crossed as they listened to Lana go through the data objectives and layout of the building. 

“Theron, you have the layout and objectives uploaded already. Kass and Torian, you're to watch for additional forces and aid with extraction. Alyxia, you are backup for Theron if there's more resistance than our scans and recon indicated. Keep this as quiet as possible. I don't want to see a smoking crater on the Holonet news. Get the information and get out. Take no unnecessary risks, and come back safely.” 

Selirah joined them at this point, with Arcann close behind her. She looked tired, and though both of them were carrying cups of caf, it only took a moment or two for Theron to ascertain that the second cup was probably for her too. The prince looked more alert, but the way he was hovering over her made it clear that she'd had a difficult night; it didn't always wake Theron when she woke up in the middle of the night, but Arcann often spent the night sitting up with her if she was having trouble sleeping. “Corellia?” she asked after a moment, examining the holotable's schematics. “You aren't still thinking of sending Theron in there alone, are you?”

Everyone but Lana suddenly had somewhere else to look, but Theron spoke up first, drawing Selirah's attention to him. “It's the best move, Seli. I'm the most qualified one to get in there and get what we need to prove their attack. It'll be useful information to have in the future in any negotiations or issues with the Republic, and you know that's true. We can't just let them think they can attack our worlds with impunity.”

“I had no intention of giving them any such impression, Theron,” Selirah replied, handing the empty caf cup to Arcann in exchange for the full one. “I do agree that we need the information and confirmation that they were the ones responsible for the attack. But once we have the information in hand, I think... how did you put it when I was coming in, Lana? Oh yes.. 'smoking crater' would be a perfectly appropriate response for their transgression, and if you're sending Kass, Torian, and Alyxia, there's no reason we can't do both. In fact, you could throw Kaliyo in there too and really give them a message they wouldn't forget.”

Kaliyo laughed, and Lana sighed, rubbing her fingers over the bridge of her nose. “No, Kaliyo is not going. We are containing this as small as we can safely do so, and I don't want a lot of collateral damage when it's strictly unnecessary to do more than get the information and get out. We can always retaliate later.”

“It's already been longer than I wanted to wait, Lana. We cannot afford to look weak or indecisive now at the beginning, or it will be the way people will expect us to be and we will be seen as vulnerable to assault. This time it was a droid factory and we lost two people. Next time it could be a city center and thousands dead.” 

Theron looked around the room, discreetly reading the expressions of the other members of the team that were present. Unsurprisingly, Selirah's words had been effective, and already many of the skeptical faces were looking to her, swept up in her vision of future attacks if they didn't give a strong face to the Republic and Empire. 

Lana doubtless was feeling the same thing from the others in the room, and she nodded after a moment. “Alright, let's hold off on calling it a search and destroy mission explicitly and just say that pending situation updates from the ground, we'll consider demolition after the information has been acquired and verified. Is that acceptable to you, Empress?”

“Yes. I will not be seen as weak, Lana. You know as well as I do that it only emboldens the bullies and power-hungry, and I don't want to be on the defensive constantly because we failed to smash this company when they dared to attack us. They nearly killed me. If for that alone, we cannot afford to seem indecisive or unwilling to respond.” Selirah's attention returned to Theron, and he could see the concern in her eyes. He knew she didn't want him to go on this mission, especially not so soon after his mother's ill-conceived attempt to convince him to return to the Republic. But Lana had covered her bases admirably and he knew Seli would have to concede that her adviser was correct in her choices for the team. “Theron... I have complete faith in your ability to find the information that we need. Be careful, and thorough.” 

“I will find it, Seli. We'll get what we need before we go, and any last minute changes can be accommodated. I don't think Alyxia, Kass, or Torian would have trouble reducing that place to near atoms given enough time. A good destructive blast will be easy work for them.” Torian and Kass agreed, and while Alyxia didn't speak, her helmeted visage nodded briefly, as if it were a given that she'd have no trouble blowing up a massive business headquarters with little warning or planning. The red-haired Mandalorian rarely spoke to anyone but her own unless she had to, but Theron had enough experience with her to know that she was businesslike and talented, if a little brutal for his personal taste. The job would get done, and Alyxia would not let him be taken easily if at all when her task was to bring him back home safely. And Theron was under no illusions that Alyxia hadn't received her own private orders to that effect, whether from Lana or Selirah herself.

“Alright, everyone knows their tasks. Get going, and keep in touch. Theron, comm silence if necessary, but keep a line open to Alyxia at least, if no one else, in case of emergency. May the force ever serve you all.” Lana dismissed them with those familiar words, and the team headed for the hangar. Miot would be piloting; as a lesser known member of the Alliance, he was less likely to draw any notice in the spaceport, and keeping a low profile was the main goal of everyone for this trip.

Before he reached the outer door of the hangar, Selirah caught up to Theron and flung herself at him bodily, heedless of his readiness or the odds of him failing to be ready for her trajectory. He dropped his pack, catching her in his arms and holding her tightly, feeling the pounding of her heart against his chest where they were pressed together. “Promise you will return safely to me, Theron. And do not break your promise. I will bombard that planet into dust if they try to keep you from me,” she threatened in muffled words half-lost against his mouth as she kissed him with enough passion to draw a few appreciative whistles from the mechanics working in the hangar. “Promise me!”

Theron laughed and kissed her back, swinging her in a circle before letting her feet come down to touch the floor again, his arms tight around her back. His fingers stroked down the line of her spine slowly, caressing her, soothing her. “I will always come back to you if I am able, love. You know that. We've done worse than this a hundred times over on the way to your throne. It will be fine. Alyxia is a one woman army, and Kass and Torian too is overkill already. You know that.”

“Promise, Theron. I'm not letting you leave unless you do. I want you to tell me the words,” she replied stubbornly, pulling back enough to stare up at him, her lavender eyes looking seriously into his face. 

“I promise to do everything within my power to return to you in the same working order that I left Odessen,” he promised, raising a hand to cup her face softly, feeling the the pleasant heat of her skin against his palm. “I love you.”

“Be careful. They were willing to kill us during that attack, and they will be more than happy to kill you on their territory. I love you, Theron. I will be waiting to greet you when you come back to Odessen.” She gave him a half-hearted smile, a faint echo of the fierce battle grin she often sported while facing impossible odds. It heartened Theron somewhat to see her willing to ascribe even that small fraction of trust in his ability to come out victorious; love him though she did, he knew that Selirah was well aware of her own exceptionalism. Her self-esteem was unassailable, and no fight was too difficult for her to leap into heedlessly.. it would be a foolhardy belief, for anyone but her. When she had to rely on others to complete a mission without her to spearhead it, she struggled with the knowledge that she had to let them succeed or fail on their own. Doubly so for Theron, whose well-being and safe return mattered to her.

She held him a moment longer, then stepped back, releasing him reluctantly. Theron leaned down for one more kiss, letting himself linger over it for a little while. Then he stepped away, picking up his pack and heading through the door. He knew she was standing there alone in the hangar, watching him go, but for his own sake, he didn't turn back to see the look on her face, and so he missed the sudden resolution that crossed her features. 

He also missed the moment when Darth Nox and Darth Lyorek both joined her there in the cavernous hangar.

“Wait until they're gone. I have another shuttle prepped and ready. Gelena is going to pilot you and provide a cover story. Complete dark, no communication unless strictly necessary. This is between us, only. Stay clear of the primary mission team, unless you are needed. Do whatever is necessary to make certain he comes back safely. I will shield you from any repercussions from whatever actions you have to take, but we'll just hope that none are needed,” Selirah told them in low tones, her voice pitched to carry only to their ears. 

“No concerns about how we do it?” Nox inquired, her cerulean gaze briefly contacting with Lyorek's red-gold eyes. “It might leave a mess.”

“If he needs exfiltration by you two, it will be time to make a mess and give them a message that they will not soon forget.. or recover from. Do whatever is needed. Kill whomever you wish, in whatever manner that you wish. Just keep him safe and return him to me. He is mine, and I don't give up anyone or anything that is mine easily.” Selirah waited until both of them had nodded silently at her, and then she walked away, heading back inside the base.


	28. Retaliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron does his job, and everyone else keeps him in the dark about their jobs. CEC gets a visit from the Explosion Fairy. Lyorek eats a sandwich.

**Theron (Corellian Engineering Corporation “CEC” Tower):**

Theron had found over the years that missions usually fell under one of two headings. Successful, and total clusterfuck. While he admittedly had a talent for the latter, he usually managed to pull victory out of the jaws of defeat even on those. But so far, this one had been going smoothly. He wanted to attribute that to his own skill, but had to admit that Lana's exhaustive research and information on guard movements and patrols, as well as security outpost locations and measures were probably a lot more responsible for the relative ease. 

He'd lifted a security passcard from one of the first guards he'd come across, while having a brief conversation about the current Huttball season. Parting with a jaunty wave and an improvised story about a meeting he had to attend, Theron had proceeded to the upper levels of the building. Security was tighter here, and he knew the card could be detected at any time if the guard who had owned it wasn't cleared for these levels. 

_I'm outside. Tracking your progress._ Alyxia's voice through his earpiece was low and calm, not exactly what one would expect to hear from someone clinging to the outside of a building. Not for the first time, he wished the former Great Hunt champion was a bit more of a talker. She probably had a lot of entertaining stories to tell, but getting more than seven words out of her at a stretch was such a chore that he'd given up and admitted defeat after a while. He'd seen her talk to Torian or Kass in long conversations, most of it held in Mando'a, but to anyone else, the bounty hunter was a firmly closed and locked durasteel safe.

If anything went sideways, though, she'd be right there, and talkative or not, Theron knew that Alyxia wore enough personal firepower to take out the spaceport if she took it into her head to destroy it. Mandalorians might be warlike and violent, but sometimes there was nothing more comforting than knowing that you had a one-woman wrecking crew backing you up. 

The door he was trying to access flashed a red light when he used his passcard, and Theron sighed. It had been too much to hope that it'd be -that- easy. A pair of droids were coming down the hallway, and Theron hastily tried a quick and dirty slice into the security interface, using his implants to boost the work and monitor the building's communications chatter for any mention of him. 

Two failures later, Theron winced as the droids reached his position. They paused, but just at that moment, he finally got the door open. As it hissed open, the droids moved on, likely assuming that meant he was permitted on the floor. Sidling inside the darkened room, Theron keyed on the lights and headed to one of the terminals on the back wall, inserting the computer spike as he began to access files on the network.

_Some movement on the floor above. Monitoring._

Her warning lingering in the back of his mind, Theron sliced through several layers of encryption, searching hastily for the Darvannis attack, or any mention of it. Fingers moving rapidly, he skimmed through myriad files until he saw a familiar name. Jaer Sainel, team lead. He began copying files tied to Jaer's personnel files, checking to be sure that the Darvannis operation was mentioned. 

_Theron, progress?_ Alyxia asked curtly. 

“Got it. Let's get out of here.” Theron pulled the computer spike, tucking it away inside his jacket. Turning towards the door, he stopped short, staring into the blank faces of several assault droids, each one heavily armored and pointing weapons at him. “Minor problem. Cornered in here,” he added. The droids moved forward, and began firing. Theron dived to the floor behind a bank of terminals, wedging himself in behind them. He could fire back from here, and did, but wasn't under any kind of illusion that he was going to be able to eliminate the droids with all of them firing at him simultaneously. Chunks of wall began to break loose from the onslaught of bolts, shards striking him sharply. Ducking his head down further into the edges of his jacket collar, trying to avoid the blowback from the hail of blaster fire, Theron managed to take the legs out on one of the droids. 

He heard something hit the outside wall, and he had the sense to already be ducked and covered when Alyxia's voice came over his comm unit. 

_Head down. Coming in._

The droids' heads swiveled towards the outer wall just as it exploded inwards, destroying part of the terminal bank that Theron was using for cover, but also taking out two more of the droids. The last one brought its gun to bear on Alyxia as she came in through the hole with her jetpack firing on low, touching down easily on her heavily booted feet. She lifted an arm negligently and fired a dart at the droid that wedged in between the armor plated chest and the neck as she stalked into the room, offering the other hand to Theron for him to take. Pulling him to his feet, she stepped in front of him, her back to the droid as the dart began to make a loud, repeated beeping noise. The droid fired several blaster bolts at her, and Theron saw her stagger briefly when one hit between panels of armor, but she only grunted audibly over the comm link and stayed where she was. The fifth beep terminated in an explosion, and Theron had reason to be grateful for Alyxia's bulky armored form between him and the blast. Even so, his ears were ringing in a disorienting way when they jumped over the ruined shreds of droids and skidded into the hallway. 

_Lifts will be shut down._ Alyxia's voice was still utterly calm and unruffled, but she opened the com line to Kass and Torian, bringing them in on the loop. _Hostiles your way, riduur?_

“Got a few on us, cyare. Nothing we can't handle. Keeping the route clear for you,” Torian replied over the sound of blaster fire and a pair of rapid fire explosions. “Darjetii gebi, Aly. Our side,” he added before cutting the connection. 

Alyxia led him down a twisting series of hallways, ducking into doorways to keep from having to leave behind a string of droid corpses that would have let any pursuers know which direction they were fleeing. The ones that had to be dispatched were dealt with in a coldly efficient way, and the bounty hunter barely slowed down to even fight, just blowing the metal bodies to pieces with her impressive armaments. Theron's blasters accounted for several more, but his ears were still ringing from the explosion and he felt more like dead weight sometimes than another member of the team. Wiping away a trickle of blood from a cut over one eye, Theron realized the hunter was taking him to the freight access lift, a wise choice because it would be lightly guarded, if at all. She had pushed him onto it and slapped the button before Theron understood that she only meant for him to go. “Alyxia, come on! Let's go!”

_I have a ride. Torian and Kass will take you from here._

The line cut abruptly, and Theron cursed inventively to himself as the lift dropped to the lower floor and opened out on an access tunnel. Kass was standing there amid the wreckage of a few service droids, helmetless and grinning, her grey eyes bright with excitement. “Come on, Torian's downed everything between us and the shuttle, and he's covering our retreat. Got the spike?”

Theron patted his pocket and nodded, following the Rattataki woman outside the building and towards their shuttle pad.

**Nox and Lyorek (CEC Tower):**

The two Inquisitors kept to the less populated halls and areas of the heavily guarded tower; dressed in green robes and carrying their dualsabers openly, no one seemed inclined to question that they were some of Corellia's famed Green Jedi, or why the Jedi would be here in one of the Incorporation Islands towers, but it still was wise to avoid as many questions as they could. Lyorek's distinctive red and black skin was covered by gloves and a white-enameled battlemask with a serene countenance, but Nox went barefaced, her wide blue eyes and small stature making her seem fairly unremarkable. 

“Where'd you hide your detonators, Melisande? You had an entire case of them with you and I don't see a single one. Mind if I pat you down?” Lyorek's red-gold eyes glittered with amusement from inside the mask, and Nox snorted rudely in response.

“I'll electrocute you worse than I did the last time you tried to pat me on the head like a tame akk dog. Don't try it. I've got most of them, don't worry.” 

“Already placed some along the way in, as well. We'll need to blanket the next floor with them if we want to do some significant structural damage, but I know Alyxia's got some tricks of her own. Next floor's security headquarters, according to the layout. Want to pay them a visit?”

“Definitely. The bodies will be so scorched by the explosions that no one will know anyway. And if they do.. who cares?”

“Theron might care, when he figures out that we were here to finish the job,” Lyorek mused. 

“If he didn't expect her to retaliate against them for nearly killing her, he doesn't know Sith very well. She would have razed this building to the ground if it'd been only up to her.. and if she didn't have to concern herself with appearances. That's why she sent us, Lyo. A halfway point between what she wants to do and what she is expected to do. Theron will just have to live with it,” Melisande replied, shrugging her shoulders indifferently. “She should take Arcann as her consort anyway. It makes more sense to bind herself to the prince than it does to court any kind of relationship with the Republic. Shan's parents aren't even influenced by him, as far as I can tell, so giving him any primacy or even equality has no strategic value.”

“You're such a romantic, Melisande.”

“Romance has no place in dynasty building. But she has her own plans.. I'm just saying what I would do in her place. I'd marry the prince, let him raise up a few brats of my bloodline with a legion of nanny droids and lock down succession, and just keep Theron around for enjoyment.” 

Lyorek laughed, adhering another charge to a decorative plinth sporting an ornate carved vase atop it. “Is that why you won't marry me? Because I'm not a prince?”

Melisande sniffed audibly, casting a dismissive look at the tall Zabrak. “I won't marry you because you're pathologically annoying, flirt with anything with a pulse, and because I have no interest in marriage to anyone. And neither do you.”

“True.”

They meandered around the halls, placing explosives behind pillars and on computer terminals, sweeping past droids with the calm aplomb of Jedi and being ignored as if they belonged there. As they entered the second floor and headed towards the security headquarters, an explosion shook the building with a muffled roar, a sprinkling of dust drifting down from the high ceilings.

“They're playing our song, Nox. Shall we?” Lyorek removed his mask, tossing it aside and shrugging off his heavy green robe, leaving him clad in black breeches, boots, and a light tunic. His crimson blades hissed into life as Melisande dropped her green robe, dressed similiarly to Lyorek in black. Her blades were also a lurid red, casting a wavering light on the walls as the pair stalked towards the doors. Holding the door open for his smaller statured companion, Lyorek chuckled as Melisande went in swinging, taking down two of the security force personnel before they could even leave their seats. 

Alyxia strode down the hallway toward the sound of blasterfire, hearing the distinctive hum of lightsabers in the same area. Opening the door, she stepped over a body, her blaster in hand, but glancing around the room, it was quickly clear that she need not even have concerned herself with having a gun drawn. Melisande, more generally referred to as Darth Nox or simply Nox, was standing across the room, zapping a hapless prisoner with idle bursts of purple lightning whenever the poor man twitched, which.. given that she was shocking him frequently, was often. Lyorek was sitting on a table crosslegged, eating the meat from a sandwich that was evidently no longer required by its previous owner, given that everyone except the hapless lightning rod prisoner was dead. 

Switching on her external speaker, the bounty hunter asked acerbically, “Have you two entertained yourselves enough, or should we find another room full of targets? There's always the boardrooms at the top of the tower.” 

Lyorek held out another sandwich enticingly to the hunter, but Alyxia shook her head. “You sure? Might as well eat, it's going to waste.”

“I'm not hungry, and I want to get off this planet. Did you set the charges?”

Nox shocked the man again callously, watching him twitch in agony but remain upright, afraid to stumble and draw more punishment. “They're set, and ready. You got all of yours in place?”

“Yeah.” The blaster bolt that hit the prisoner's shoulder and spun him around before he collapsed to the ground had to have come from Alyxia, but neither Lyorek or Melisande saw her lift the pistol or fire, a fact that made Lyorek eye the bounty hunter thoughtfully and utter a low whistle of appreciation. “Enough playing with the mice, Darth Nexu,” the hunter said mockingly, stalking over to the whimpering prisoner and nudging him with one armored foot. “Hey, look at me, vaar'ika.” Once the man turned his fearful gaze upwards on her featureless helmet, she continued, “You head upstairs to the bosses and you tell them that a Mandalorian never forgets, and that Empress Selirah sends her regards. This is a gentle lesson. If they infiltrate our worlds again, she will send the Fleet to impress upon them the level of her displeasure. Got it?”

The man nodded hastily and struggled to his feet, stumbling out of the room as fast as his feet would carry him. Jogging to the executive lift, he hastily keyed the conveyance to take him to the top floors, and less than twenty minutes later, while giving his account of the attack and the damage he'd seen, a series of small explosions went through the building, making the lower floors shake with the impacts. But they were nothing to the final explosion, fueled by a baradium charge circled with smaller explosive charges. It rocked the lower floors, knocking people down and shattering walls and windows, nearly destroying two floors and badly damaging the floors above and below those two.

In the pandemonium following the explosion, no one paid much attention to a small shuttle lifting off amid all the others fleeing the site of the attack, or noted that it was heading off-planet before it jumped into hyperspace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a words:  
> Riduur - Husband/wife/spouse/partner  
> Cyare - Beloved/love  
> Darjetii gebi - Sith here  
> Vaar'ika - Runt
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day, all you fellow Star Wars fans! :) (And me with no smut on offer this time around. Eh well. I never claimed to be a -good- Valentine.)


	29. As Long As You're Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron returns from Corellia, and he has a lot of questions about the events there. Arcann reveals a truth, and Selirah comes clean about it to Theron. Reunion smut occurs.

Kass flew the shuttle on the trip home, and Torian treated the cuts and bruises Theron had obtained with kolto gel. The flight back was uneventful, but Theron found himself full of questions about what had happened on Corellia. Alyxia had seemed to him as if she had another objective than simply backing him up, and if she did, it stood to reason that the other two Mandalorians knew something about it too.

“Torian, mind if I ask you a question?”

The tall blonde man paused in putting away the medical supplies, turning to face Theron warily. “No. Go ahead.”

“Alyxia said she already had a ride. Were we the only team there?”

“No,” Torian said again, his guileless blue eyes meeting Theron's hazel without flinching away. “Couple of Sith.”

A couple of Sith. Theron frowned thoughtfully, pacing as Kass brought them out of hyperspace. “You knew they would be there?”

“No.” A third polite demurral, but this time, Torian volunteered more information without being asked. “Aly knew. When I told her I'd seen them in the spaceport, she wasn't surprised. She knew, I didn't.”

“Did Kass know?”

“Ask her, no one knows what Kass knows except Kass.”

“Does it bother you? That Alyxia had another mission parameter and didn't tell you about it?” Theron asked curiously. 

Torian smiled, a quick flash of white teeth. “My riduur keeps her own counsel and makes her own decisions. I am not bothered by that.” He looked at Theron thoughtfully for a moment, then asked, “Are you bothered that the Empress kept something from you?”

Theron sighed, rolling his aching shoulder carefully to keep it from stiffening. “No. I think part of me knew she would retaliate against them for their attack on her. She doesn't tell me everything, and I don't really expect her to tell me everything.”

“Nothing to worry about, then. You did what you went there to do, your part was done. Whatever happens after was someone else's part to do.” Torian shifted his weight on his feet easily to balance with the shuttle as it came down, landing with a thump that rocked the floor, staggering Theron. “We wanted revenge too, you know. It was our brothers killed in that attack.”

“I know. I get it.. wasn't my business to worry about that part of Seli's plan. Still, she could have told me. I would have understood.”

“Maybe so, or maybe she sees it differently. Better not to question her. Women will do as they like.” The Mandalorian shrugged good-naturedly, palming the shuttle door lock open. Theron laughed at the pragmatic response, echoing the other man's shrug.

“A wise way to look at it, Torian.”

Theron went up the walkway towards the base at a jog, leaving Kass and Torian behind. But Selirah was not in the war room, or their chamber, or anywhere else in the base that he could find. Arcann was on the training field with Sana-Rae's students, and the prince offered a genuine smile when he caught sight of Theron approaching. 

“A safe return. Seli will be pleased. But you are looking for her, I'm sure.”

Theron nodded, glancing at the sparring students with their training blades, and the advanced students with their lightsabers. “No one else seemed to know where she was, and I know that you always do.”

Arcann chuckled, shrugging one broad shoulder in an insouciant gesture. “Not in a precise way, but I think you will find her in the woods outside the base. She gets restless when you are away on a mission without her.”

“The feeling is mutual when it's her taking chances and I'm not with her. Arcann, did you know about the second team?”

“No, but I wondered when Nox and Lyorek left not long after your team did.” The prince fell silent for a moment, then continued, “She would have been perfectly right to take a more decisive stance than Lana wanted to take. They almost killed her with that sabotage, and she generally does not let attacks go unpunished. I don't think that would be wrong, if it were why she did it.”

He sounded so defensive that Theron almost smiled, but he contained the urge, not wanting Arcann to take it as mockery on his part. “I didn't say I thought it was wrong. I'm glad she listens to counsel from all of us but in the end, she has to make a decision that she thinks is best. I don't know if it would have been my choice, but I do understand why she did it.”

“Do you, though?” Arcann gave him a look that at first Theron couldn't decipher, his pale blue eyes narrowed slightly. “You think she did it for retaliation. Out of revenge for the Mandalorians, or their attack on her, or the factory. She wants you to think that. She wants everyone to think that. She even tried to make me believe that.”

“You don't think it was about payback for what they did? What could be more Sith than that? At the core, that's still who she is, Arcann,” Theron argued. 

“She did it for -you-, Theron. All the excuses are smokescreens for that fact. She could have blackmailed them with the information you obtained. She could have made them crawl with just the threat of destruction. Instead, she chose to send a team whose entire objective was only to act if you were attacked while you were there.” Jealousy. That was the look on Arcann's face, and Theron understood it suddenly as he listened to the slightly bitter tone of the prince's voice. “She had their security team killed and blew up several floors of their headquarters because they shot at you. For a spy, you are not terribly observant sometimes, you know.”

“Are you sure? Why would she...” Theron shook his head, Arcann's explanation nearly impossible for him to accept or believe. 

“Ask her. She might lie at first, but she'll admit it eventually. Go find her. She will want to see you and welcome you back, and be assured that you are safe.” 

Arcann turned away without waiting for an answer, and Theron left him to his training with the students. He wasn't sure if he agreed with the prince's opinion on Selirah's motivations for the second team, but he was right that the only certainty was to ask her.

The overgrown path from the base was shadowed by the tall trees. He could hear the leaves rustling overhead in counterpoint to the leaf litter crunching under his boots, and a breeze lifted through the woods, carrying the faint sweet scent of wildflowers. It had taken him a while to even want to be in this spot, even though it was Selirah's favorite 'quiet' place to sit and think, because the last time he'd been there with her, she'd told him about her relationship with Arcann. But there was no denying the beauty of the forest here, or the serenity of the small stone-bottomed lake, and Theron had ceased to find it distressing to be reminded of that conversation some time ago. 

Stepping into the clearing around the lake, Theron paused, watching Selirah. The Twi'lek sat quietly, crosslegged, on one of the rocks near the shore, her eyes closed. Unsure if she was meditating, he hung back, prepared to wait. But her eyes opened, and she turned to look at him, her face brightening instantly with obvious relief and pleasure. 

“Theron!” She leaped off the rock, crossed the intervening space, and had her arms around his neck so quickly that he was almost caught by surprise. And for a few minutes, there was no talk at all, just the spicy-sweet taste of her lips, and the touch of her hands holding him close as if she was afraid he'd disappear again if she let him go. By the time she was willing to let him up for air, the evening was starting to set in over the hills, and they settled together on the rock, his arms wrapped lightly around her waist. “Lana was tired of my pacing and sent me out to 'burn off some excess energy' earlier today. I just.. stayed out here. There was not much I could do but wait, and it was driving me crazy.”

“Arcann mentioned as much, but it was a successful trip, and Lana seems pleased. And I'm fine, as you can see,” he added lightly, smiling at her, but her fingers lifted to the cut over his forehead and the bruise over his cheekbone. “Minor damage,” Theron corrected, and Selirah laughed.

“I knew you would get the information. You always come through, no matter what task we've set for you.”

“Seli... about the second team. Why did you send them?” Theron asked, looking into her face and searching for reactions and hints even though the rational part of his mind knew that she wouldn't show any signs to him, truth or lie.

“You talked to Arcann,” she said in a mildly accusing tone instead of answering the question, an irritated expression crossing her face briefly. “He thinks the only reason I would protect him is because I don't want to be injured if he is.” 

“Yes, I did, but that doesn't change the fact that I want to hear the truth from you, and not from anyone else. Arcann's view of the situation isn't necessarily the entire truth, since it's colored by his feelings on it. I want -you- to tell me why you sent them.”

Selirah looked into his eyes, then turned away. He could feel her sigh because he was holding her close, but otherwise it was a tiny gesture, a nearly silent concession of his point. “Theron, it was my decision to send additional backup and to send a message to CEC. There's nothing particularly ambiguous about it.”

Grasping her shoulders, Theron turned Selirah bodily towards him, then slid two fingers under the edge of her chin, lifting her face to his. Her eyes met his, and he marveled again at how beautiful and soft her lavender eyes were, a contrast to her fierce mind and heart. “Seli, did you send them for me?”

He could see the expression on her face shift from one emotion to another with the speed of clouds before a storm front, scudding across the sky, and she finally smiled, dryly, a small quirk upwards of her lips. “Am I not allowed to be concerned for your safety?”

“You can ask all the questions that you want, after you answer me.”

“You have gotten very stubborn, Theron. I think you are picking up too many of Arcann's bad habits.” She wrinkled her nose at him, but when he didn't rise to the bait, she relented. “Fine. I sent them for you.”

“You sent Nox, and Lyorek, and Alyxia.. that didn't seem like overkill to you?”

Selirah shrugged, looking puzzled. “I couldn't go myself. They were an acceptable compromise. And Alyxia's primary mission objective was the data, the same as you. The secondary task only came into play if you were attacked while you were there.” 

She had sent them for him. Theron gazed at her in startled comprehension as it began to sink in. She had sent a Great Hunt champion, a notoriously dangerous bounty hunter in her own right, along with him, and then thought it was necessary to also send a former Dark Council member -and- another Sith in addition to Alyxia. For him. 

He had heard what she'd said on Yavin, but never really thought that she was serious, or that she wouldn't change her mind eventually, or tire of him. That she would leave him had always seemed inevitable. He just wasn't someone that people chose to stay with, or fell in love with. After a life spent mostly alone, with a lot of superficial relationships, ugly breakups with transient lovers, and a mother who had discarded him at birth as an impediment to her vocation, Theron struggled with the idea of someone loving him at all, much less being afraid for his safety, or protective of him. But it was hard to ignore the facts in front of him now.

Who would have imagined that he'd find love and security in a Sith warrior who had spent years as the scourge of the Republic? Maybe he should have known that was the only place to find it; if there was one thing that Selirah clearly was, it was the polar opposite of his distant, emotionless mother. Theron shook his head, laughing aloud. “You never cease to surprise me. That you would go to these lengths to make sure that I was safe... even at the expense of prioritizing what they'd done to you. I just don't know what to even think about it.”

“Before you start thinking it's an unselfish thing, Theron, remember that I did it because I don't want to risk losing you. So.. really it was for me.” Selirah leaned against his chest, and his arms tightened around her, one hand tracing a line up and down her back slowly. “Don't make a big deal out of it. I just wanted them to understand that targeting you would be severely punished. You are vital to me. I need you.”

“No one has ever needed -me-. And you, you don't need me. I don't know if you've ever needed anyone.” Theron released her, rising stiffly and walking to the edge of the water. “I know that you love me, but...”

“But, what? But someday I'll know better than to love you? Someday I'll stop? Someday I'll leave you?” Selirah stayed seated, watching him, her eyes gentle but her jaw set stubbornly. “I won't. Stop thinking that I am like the people who have disappointed you. I am not them. I will always come for you if you need me to, and I will not stop loving you. I am not a Jedi, to be ashamed of my passions, deny them, or to hide from them. I am not going to abandon you, Theron. You have to stop expecting me to leave you, because I refuse to oblige you.” She watched him for a few moments more, and then stood, moving to press against Theron from behind, her arms wrapping around his waist, her right hand flattening against his belly, and then sliding lower. “I need you. You will have to accept it at some point.” The other hand glided up over his chest to rest over his heart.

She could feel him breathing, his heart starting to beat faster under her fingers. Pressing her lips to the back of his neck, she closed her eyes, her right hand tugging his belt loose, letting it drop to the ground as she slid her fingers into his pants. His breathing hitched, catching in his throat as her hand closed around his cock, squeezing lightly, stroking as he grew harder in the circle of her fingers. Selirah bit the back of his neck, her tongue flicking teasingly against his skin, and Theron groaned in response, seizing her wrist and tugging her hand out of his pants. He turned around to face her, his fingers tightening on her slim wrist until his grip was bruisingly tight, looking into her eyes as he backed her up against one of the towering trees, lifting her arm up above her head. Lifting the other arm up and crossing her wrists above her head, he bent his head to press a kiss to the side of her neck, biting her sharply until she gasped, feeling her hips press against his in a lascivious invitation. 

“Don't move your arms, Seli.” 

Selirah licked her lips, the moonrise turning the pool of water nearby into silver, and lighting the clearing. She watched him as he took off her boots, lifting her legs one at a time without a word to ease the process. He tossed them aside, and stripped her tunic off over her head, flinging it away with the boots indifferently. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over the nipples, watching them tighten in the night air as they responded to his touch. He bent to take one of them into his mouth, and she arched her back, a delicate shiver of pleasure going through her at the light nip of his teeth on one sensitive peak. 

His hands slid over her ribs and the curve of her waist, feeling the gentle flare of her hips. Theron hooked his fingers in her pants, peeling them down slowly over her ass and the length of her legs, and Selirah lifted her feet one at a time to let him remove them. When he stood again, it was to remove his own clothing: boots first, then his jacket, shirt, and pants. She watched him undress, impossibly aroused by the sight of his gorgeous body illuminated by the moon overhead, while the stricture of his order preventing her from touching him added a certain measure of frustration to the view. He stood for a moment, watching her, then came to her, his hand sliding down her thigh to her knee. Hooking his fingers behind her knee, he lifted it up, wrapping her leg around his hip as his other hand slid between her legs, stroking her lightly until she quivered against his hand, her hips thrusting helplessly in response. Theron flicked her clit with his thumb, watching her jerk in a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure, a whimper breaking from her lips. His fingers were relentless, stroking and caressing, sliding up inside her hot core, his palm grinding against her clit until she was breathless and shuddering against his hand, on the edge of climax. 

Pulling his hand away, Theron lifted her other leg up to join the first, his hands moving to cup the curve of her ass as he leaned into her, pressing her back against the rough bark of the tree. His hips ground against hers, his cock slipping against her wet folds, and her hands dropped halfway down to guide him into her. “Hands up,” he growled at her, his mouth finding hers, kissing her hotly as he shifted his hips and drove into her in one hard thrust. The tree bark bit into her skin, the pain goading her pleasure, and Selirah lifted her arms, crossing her wrists over her head obediently. Theron sucked on her lower lip, biting it lightly, and she cried out, her hips thrusting against his, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His hands tightened on her, fingers biting into her ass, leaving nail impressions in her skin as he drove into her forcefully, fucking her hard and fast, both of them panting and wordless in their lust. Selirah laid her head back against the tree, her lekku curved over her shoulders, her eyes closed in ecstasy as Theron took one hand away from her to take hold of her wrists, pinning them above her head. 

Her hips bucking against his, Selirah's climax hit her like a wave, bowing her back and making her gasp and cry out in release. Her hands tightened into fists, her nails biting into her palms, but Theron didn't stop, his hips pistoning into her in rhythmic thrusts, forcing her through her orgasm, prolonging the pleasure almost unbearably. Sensitive to the point of pain after so much pleasure, she squirmed against him, and he bit her shoulder sharply, making her moan and tighten her legs, her body squeezing around him at the same time, clamping down on Theron's cock until he pinned her hips roughly to the tree behind her, buried deeply when he lost the last shreds of his control and came inside her with a long, shuddering groan of release.

Theron let go of her hands after a moment or two, his breathing soft and ragged, and she brought her hands down to rest them on his shoulders, twining them around his neck. Her fingers slid into the short hair at the nape of his neck, stroking the strands as she came back to herself, her heartbeat returning slowly to normal as Theron curled his hands under her thighs, supporting her weight easily. 

“I believe you, love,” he said finally, his voice soft. “I'm trying to believe that you aren't going to leave me. That part is harder for me. But I do believe you that you love me, and that you need me. I need you too.”

“That's a good start.” Selirah replied, and Theron bit back a moan as she twitched her hips teasingly, circling them against him. A slow smile curved her lips as she felt him stir inside her, starting to harden again. “I hope you got some sleep on the shuttle on the way back, love, because I'm not done welcoming you home yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me longer than I'd intended due to some very annoying circumstances beyond my control, but I finally wrapped it up and felt like it was ready to be added. ;)


	30. Part of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann and Selirah talk out some things amongst themselves. There's a lot of talking.

He'd heard them come in late, hours after he'd told Theron where to find Selirah. He kept his eyes closed, listening to them whispering to each other, laughing softly as they got ready for bed. Her emotions spilled from her like water from a sieve, unfiltered and only marginally shielded, and he couldn't ignore them even though his own shields were up, thinning their bond to the smallest trickle of feedback. Her satisfaction and happiness were overwhelming, and he could feel the lingering pleasure and desire she felt as clearly as he'd felt the far more powerful surges of both earlier when they'd been together out in the forest.

Arcann lay still while the two of them settled into bed, Selirah curling up against his side and Theron pressed against her back, his arm around her waist. He listened to their breathing, waiting patiently, feeling a painful knot of jealousy ease somewhat at her touch, and the way she had come to him, to hold him while she slept. Her body heat felt good against his skin, and as the minutes dragged on, he felt tempted to stay there in bed, to wrap his arms around her, be close to her, to touch her dreams. That, at least, was something that was his and his alone, like Theron had their years together before him. He knew it was foolish to be jealous that she'd chosen to welcome Theron home alone, but some part of him resented being excluded and hated being left out of their reunion. 

Stirring carefully, Arcann shifted over towards the edge of the bed. A walk, or perhaps a drink in the cantina; anything to take his mind off his feelings of jealousy and envy. Selirah's hand slid around his waist, and she stirred sleepily, one amethyst eye opening to look at him.

“Bad dream, keella?” she asked drowsily, her warm fingers stroking lazily over his belly, tracing the line of the faint scar left from his injury on the training field. 

He rested his left hand on her hand, and she took it, twining her fingers with his prosthetic ones without hesitation. “No, just trouble sleeping. Go to sleep, Seli, it's alright. I'll take a walk and come back to bed later,” he replied, keeping his voice quiet so as not to wake Theron, who routinely was up far earlier than either of them to get a head start on any issues that would need Selirah's attention. 

The other eye opened to join the first one, and Arcann nearly sighed aloud, knowing that now she was awake and unlikely to just let him leave on his own. She dislodged her fingers gently from his and gestured to him to get up, waiting until he was up to disentangle herself from Theron, tucking her pillow up against him and watching him wrap himself around it instead with a faint smile. She got up while he was dressing in a shirt and loose pants, reaching past him with one lithe, red-skinned arm to snag another of his shirts. Pulling it over her head, she worked her lekku free of the neckline and slid on a pair of shorts, then took Arcann's hand and led him out into the hallway, seizing a pair of light blankets from the couch on the way past it. 

Yawning, she headed through the halls, taking him with her through the nearly deserted hangar and out onto the walkways that led to her ship and the Gravestone. Laying one of the blankets down on the cool metal floor of the walkway, she sat down on it, her legs dangling over the side. “Sit down with me, keella,” she invited gently but firmly, clearly not interested in taking no for an answer. Arcann sank down on the blanket and wrapped the second one around both of their shoulders, gazing out at the trees silently. “Do you want to tell me what was troubling you? I can guess, but... I would rather that you were willing to share it with me. You keep so much to yourself.. I wish you wouldn't do that. It's not good for you.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling her hand tucking lightly into his, warm and comforting as her weight against his side where she was leaning close to him. “It's not worth worrying about, Seli. I'm perfectly aware that I'm being foolish. I don't need you to confirm it for me.” Aware suddenly of how defensive he sounded, Arcann took a slow breath and added, “It's nothing I haven't felt before.”

Selirah laid her head down on his shoulder, wrapping the blanket more carefully around her shoulders before sliding her arms around his waist. “I don't think you're being foolish. Did you think I couldn't sense how you were feeling? Or did you think I just didn't care, or was too involved in Theron to pay attention to you?” Her arms tightened slightly, fingers interlocking as she glanced up at his face, the perfect profile the only side visible to her from this vantage point. “Isn't it interesting how you and Theron both think no one could possibly love you, and I think everyone loves me?”

The last question startled him out of his self-pitying introspection, and Arcann laughed, turning slightly to look at her inquisitive gaze. “I hoped you weren't paying attention to how I was feeling, and I do know that you care. But I suppose I did, in a way, think that you were too involved in Theron to notice me, or how I felt. You were so worried about him while he was away. It made me feel a little jealous, of the ease that you have with him, and the way you defend him. I wonder sometimes if it will ever be so easy like that between us, or if I'll ever stop feeling resentful of Theron because he met you first.”

“To be fair, he also didn't blame his father's death on me or lock me .. imperfectly, no less.. in carbonite for five years, or try to kill me numerous times afterwards,” Selirah pointed out, leaning up to kiss his cheek when she saw his jaw start to set defensively. “I am teasing you, keella. I tried to kill you too. And .. well.. I -did- kill your father, but you gave me the saber, so I feel like you should at -least- share the blame, but nooo, it was all 'the Outlander did it'.” At his reluctant laugh, she shifted over, eeling smoothly onto his lap, moving her arms up to loop around his neck when he put his arms around her to steady her across his thighs. “Theron and I have had plenty of time to ourselves, to build our relationship with each other. So it's probably true that we have a different kind of relationship than you and I do. But we can do something about that. We can take more time together, just you and I. We'll talk about it with Theron, make sure he'll be alright with it, and just spend more time learning about each other.”

He tucked the blanket over her, making sure she was covered by it in the cool, pre-dawn air, his fingers stroking her hip and thigh over the blanket idly, feeling her body warmth radiating through the fabric. “Do you think Theron would accept it? He has no reason to want that.”

She sighed gustily, tilting her head to look at him, this time with the vantage point of the scarred profile of his face. “Why do you think so poorly of him? He's done nothing but compromise what he wanted because he knew I wanted you. Don't you think his image of the future was one of just him and me? But when he knew how I felt for you, and how you felt for me.. he bent and compromised, and learned to picture a different future,” she replied with a gently reproachful look. “Theron has defended you, even to me. I think you are being unfair, keella.”

Arcann had the grace to look abashed, a faint flush of color rising in his cheeks, making the pale scars stand out more visibly. He ducked his head, resting his cheek against her forehead, the cool metal of her headband easing the heat in his skin from his embarrassment. “Maybe it's not him that I really think has the problem. Maybe it's just all me. I don't know how to connect with him, because I feel resentful of him. I feel like he's in the way.”

Her fingers glided up over the nape of his neck, feeling the brush-short strands of his hair tickling against the pads of her fingertips. She moved her fingers higher, following the curve of his head, bemused by the feeling of the shorn hair. “My love for him in no way diminishes how I feel about you, Arcann. Emotions multiply, they don't divide. My hatred for one enemy doesn't mean that I can only hate the next one half as much. Parents don't have to divide their love between their children, it just grows with each new one added.” Selirah shrugged her shoulders, the blanket slipping off on one side, his shirt hanging loosely on her slender frame. “I loved Theron with all of me that is able to love, and now I love you the same way. Not less. You shouldn't resent him and think that getting rid of him would gain you anything... it wouldn't.”

“I don't want to get rid of him...” Arcann started, then cast a sidelong glance at her, his pale blue eyes amused. “Not really, though I might think it sometimes. It's just hard to realize he is probably a big part of how you ended up standing before the throne that day in cuffs. Joining with him even though he was your enemy to fight against a greater threat taught you how to bring different groups of people together. He's so much a part of who you are now. I wish I'd handled that moment so differently, when I look back on it now. But I was so furious that my father clearly put you above me, a total stranger, after everything I'd done to gain his favor.. to have him give it to you openly like that right in front of me... I was blinded by rage.”

“Envy, keella. I know you hated everything he did to you and your twin, and your sister, but he was not wrong when he said envy was your weakness. You see everyone as a competitor, and there is no one to compete with you.” Selirah traced her fingers idly over the lines of the scars cutting through his hair, feeling the smooth scar tissue in conjunction with the bristling short strands. “Theron is not your competition. Vanquishing him would win you nothing. Maybe I should send the two of you for some bonding time, instead of you and I,” she said slyly. “No coming home till you can play nice together.”

Arcann chuckled, shaking his head in refusal. “Absolutely not, Seli. You and I, yes. But I hear what you're saying. I'll think about it and I'll try to reach out to him more often. You're right.. I haven't been fair to him, and I suppose I did think of him more as competition than not.” Catching her mid-yawn, the prince slid his right arm under her knees, lifting her and the blanket both, snagging the other one with his fingers as he got up. “Let's go back to bed. Theron is probably missing the thermal-heated Twi'lek he usually cuddles against, and we can both use the sleep. It'll be time for Lana's meeting before we know it.”

“You know,” Selirah commented sleepily, leaning her head against his shoulder as he headed back towards their room, “I hate those meetings. Let's not go. Any of us. There has to be some benefit to being the boss. She can brief me on the important points later.”

“Who gets to tell -her- that little bit of news?”

“Anyone that isn't me. It's called delegating.”

“It's called not wanting to be the one to annoy Lana.”

“.. That too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a busy few days, but I've been doing a paragraph here and there because this conversation was rattling around in my brain and wanted to get out. Then tonight I sat and finished it and cleaned it up to post. It's pretty feelings-heavy stuff, but I like to explore motivations as much as I enjoy things that propel the story forward more obviously. ;) Anyway, there it is!


	31. Gone Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah drops a little surprise on Theron and Arcann, and Lana and Lyorek and everyone else seems to be in on it too. They quickly begin to realize they might be in over their heads.

Theron woke abruptly, coming fully awake quickly the way he usually did. At about the same time, he realized the person he was cuddled up against wasn't Selirah, and he scooted a little distance back as Arcann's bright blue eyes opened. The prince was slower to wake, and today was no different than usual. It took him a couple of moments to realize Selirah was not in bed and that Theron had been wrapped around him while they slept. His laugh was soft but genuine as he took in the other man's flushed cheeks and embarrassed hazel eyes. 

“I told you that you'd touched me plenty of times, didn't I?” Arcann chuckled, stretching lazily like a big, muscular cat, one section at a time to stir his body out of the somnolent position he'd been laying in for most of the night. “If I was going to give you a black eye for something, Theron, it would not be that.” 

His comment was sleepy, offhanded, but Theron could sense the truth in the statement. Arcann really wouldn't get angry at him for getting a little handsy in his sleep, but there were clearly things for which he -would- like to take a shot at Theron. “I think a black eye would be the very least of the things you could do, if you wanted,” Theron responded, rubbing one hand through his hair, trying to remember if Seli had mentioned anything she had to do today or any other reason why she would be gone so early. “So I hope you'd talk to me first, if you were pissed off at me. Did Seli say she had any plans this morning?”

Arcann tucked his hand behind his head, ice blue gaze following Theron idly as the other man got up to head into the 'fresher. “No. You know how she is. She never gets up before you, and rarely even before me. Perhaps there was an emergency.” 

“Maybe, but.. she probably would have woken us up, if that was the case. Hmm.” He disappeared into the 'fresher, and by the time he'd returned, Arcann was sitting up on the bed, the sheets draped across his waist and thighs, a datapad in his hand. Wordlessly, the prince handed the datapad to Theron. His expression, as often, was a little difficult to read; no one did a good blank face like Arcann, except maybe Lana. Casting his attention on the datapad as Arcann rose to go use the 'fresher, he realized it was a mail message, one that he probably had an almost identical copy of in his own inbox. 

_Good morning, keella._

_I dislike rising early, but it seemed like a necessary thing, given the circumstances. I'm already gone, so don't rush to get ready, thinking that you could come and catch me on the way out. I sent these when I made the first hyperspace jump, just to be sure that you wouldn't have that opportunity, as much as I regretted leaving both of you this morning._

_The more I thought about our conversation the other night, the more I realized that letting the two of you have some time to get to know each other would be a good decision. You may disagree; in fact, I know absolutely without a doubt that you do. But I think there are a lot of positive things that could come of the two of you spending some time together without me in the middle. Both of you tend to use me as a crutch to tolerate the other, and I'm tired of it. So I removed myself from the equation, and have informed the appropriate people to be sure that any issues that crop up are to be handled by -both- of you, together._

_You'll either figure out how to work together and appreciate each other's strengths and compensate for each other's weaknesses the way we do for each other when I am there, or I'll come home and deal with whatever mess you've made of this opportunity. Please, keella. Give it a chance, for me._

_Selirah_

Theron read the message twice, feeling a knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach settling in for a long, comfortable stay as he realized she intended to stay away for more than a day or two. The message made it sound like she could conceivably be gone for a week or more, and additionally, told them nothing about where she was going. It was very likely that Lana knew where Seli was; the adviser almost always did and was nearly as reliable as Arcann in that regard. But he was equally sure that she wasn't going to tell them anything when and if they asked her for information. There was nothing that Lana loved more than having exclusive access to important information. No, they'd be wasting their time, trying to pry information from Lana.

Vette, on the other hand.. if she hadn't gone with Selirah, might be willing to spill a little bit of information. Or Major Pierce, possibly.. but the odds were extremely good that she'd taken both him and Broonmark with her, wherever she'd gone.

Theron closed out Arcann's mailbox and opened his own, confirming his thought that he'd have a similar mail in his own inbox. Her words to him included acknowledgment that he'd been making an effort with Arcann, but that the prince needed to give him more of a chance, and failed to mention the conversation that she'd had with him that Theron hadn't been present to hear. And of course, it didn't refer to him by the Ryl endearment that she used for Arcann, which she reserved solely for him. He wasn't sure exactly what she expected to happen between them. Without her, it was likely that Arcann would mostly just avoid or ignore him until she came back to Odessen, or would simply seek to keep in contact with her in other ways that Theron couldn't share.

The War Room was empty of everyone except for Lana when Theron arrived, which was a little odd at this time of day. She gave Theron a nod of greeting, engrossed in reading a report and tapping notes out on a datapad, but the moment Arcann appeared around the corner, she straightened and Theron realized she'd just been waiting for both of them to be present before hitting them with whatever Seli's next surprise was going to be. 

“Both of you have seen the letters that Selirah sent to you by now, I'm certain. So we'll just skip directly to the point, if you don't mind. I have a lot of work to do, and with the Empress out of the system, so do you. She wants you two to work together while she is away, and to report to me. She will be out of contact for the majority of her time, and asked me specifically to make that point to you, Arcann. She said, and I quote, 'Don't try to get around the communications by sneaking into my head.', so hopefully that's clear enough.” Lana glanced at both of them pointedly, the look lasting a bit longer on Arcann's decidedly sullen expression until the prince reluctantly, and with very poor grace, nodded in understanding. “You are to work -together-, as I said, but what I mean by that is all decisions must be agreed upon by both of you, and made by both of you jointly. She was quite explicit on that point. And finally.. she and I both feel certain that you will get on each other's nerves, possibly multiple times, and I have no interest in being dragged into any arguments. Work it out between yourselves. I don't care how, but I feel certain that the Empress might. Keep that in mind, should you decide to shoot him, Theron... or choke him or toss him into a wall, Arcann.” With this final ominous point made, Lana handed the datapad to Theron. “Get to work. I'll be heading to Zakuul to meet with Nox and Senya, and I'll be back tomorrow or the next day, at the latest. Holo me if you need anything.”

Lana swept out of the room without giving either of them much opportunity to recover from the deluge of information, or to ask any questions about what their work was going to entail. By the time it'd sunk in that she was essentially leaving the entire running of Odessen and the field missions in their hands, she was long gone. Arcann gave Theron a narrow-eyed look, holding out a hand for the datapad. “I suppose we should see what our To Do list looks like, hmm?”

Theron rolled his eyes, passing over the datapad. “You're not going to like it. Lana, however, is probably laughing herself silly on the way out to the shuttle, because this list is going to be impossible for anyone but her or Seli to actually achieve. I don't think either of us have the personal capital with the Alliance to swing all of this kriffing list any time before next month.”

Perusing the endless and painfully detailed list that Lana had compiled, Arcann was forced to admit that Theron was probably entirely correct. “I suspect we're being taught some sort of valuable personal growth lesson here about how little we appreciate the work that Seli and Lana are always doing to keep everything moving around this place,” he responded, his bass voice dryly amused. “However, I can't help but note that while we definitely don't have the influence with everyone to get this all done.. Lyorek is here on-planet. And what -we- lack in influence...”

With a reluctant laugh, Theron agreed, “Lyorek has in spades, you're right.” They sent a passing soldier to bring the Inquisitor from Sana-Rae's wing of the base, and a few minutes later, the Zabrak sauntered into the War Room, clad in his usual black robes, his saber hanging from his belt and a cheeky smile gracing his red and black face. 

“Got your highly unpleasant marching orders, have you? Seli sure left both of you solidly in the lurch and flew off with Pierce and Broonmark early this morning. What'd you do?” he asked curiously, pulling himself up on the holotable and crossing his legs, perching there comfortably. 

“How do you... nevermind. I'm sure I don't want to know how you get your information,” Theron replied. “Regardless, Lana's left us a ridiculous list of tasks, and we were hoping..”

“That I'd help you get them done by exploiting the fact that I've either slept with all the people you need, or they'd -like- to sleep with me and thus would do whatever necessary to obtain that result. Nope. Sorry. Seli told me she'd make me very sorry if I did -anything- to help other than reasonable amounts of cooperation on a personal level. That is, with my own skills only. Nice try, though. Clever.” Catching Arcann's increasingly thunderous expression from the corner of his red-gold eyes, Lyorek added cheerfully, “Don't even think about it, big guy. If she only just intimidates me, you're not going to make the cut. I'll help you with things that would call for my skills. But I'm not going to help you erase half that list in a day or she'll turn me over to Nox and tell her I killed one of her gizkas or something, and … no thanks. I prefer being on their good sides.” 

“You're afraid of -Nox-?” Arcann said incredulously, startled out of most of his poor mood by the idea of being scared of the tiny Sith. “Really?” 

Theron considered commenting that size didn't matter much when it came to power, but discarded it quickly given Lyo's presence in the room and the obvious and slightly suggestive implication that the Inquisitor was likely to make. It turned out, however, that he didn't need to say anything, because Lyorek immediately piped up with, “Ohhh, another one who thinks bigger's better. Now I'm a little intrigued about what drew our lovely Empress from you to you and back again,” looking from Theron to Arcann and back again, tapping a finger against his chin. Then his eyes dropped pointedly below the waist on both of them, and Theron fought the urge to drop his hands, instead shrugging his shoulders and holding out his hand for the datapad, taking it back from Arcann. “I suppose she'd take it poorly if I asked to judge for myself,” Lyo added, slyly smiling at the prince who, surprisingly, colored a bit under the regard of the Zabrak. “I'll just have to hope she tells me herself, then.”

“Good luck with that,” Theron retorted. “If you're not going to help, then you might as well get back to what you were doing. But Lana did write that you're supposed to have the advanced students ready to head to Zakuul within the week to start taking patrols in the Spire and Old World sectors, so be sure you get that done.”

“Yes sir, Theron,” Lyo said with a mocking, slightly rude, finger flicking salute. “Can I assume that you agree with that assessment, Arcann?” he added, clearly aware of the additional strictures that Lana had placed on them making their decisions together. Not for the first time, Theron felt a little bit grateful that he'd never dealt with Lyorek face to face or even indirectly in his time in the SIS. It was embarrassingly clear to him that the Inquisitor would have run rings around him with his ability to gain intelligence from nearly anyone that he met. He had a certain poisonously sweet charm that was very difficult to resist, and a harmless mien that completely made you forget that you were dealing with a high ranking Sith Lord until it was too late and you'd already spilled all your secrets. 

Arcann gave Lyorek a sour glare from his ice blue eyes, not at all amused by the Inquisitor's mockery. “You may, because I do agree with Theron. And I'm sure you already know that those were your duties this week, so your pretense of unawareness is noted as well.” Lyorek laughed merrily, hopping down off the holo table and sauntering out of the room. “I'm never sure if I hate him or admire him,” the prince added in a low voice once he was certain the Zabrak was out of hearing range. 

“Both. I think the likely answer is both. At least, that's how I always feel. Well, without Lyorek's help, this is going to be a nearly impossible job, so I guess we'd better get to work on it. We should probably go meet with Hylo first about the supplies and shipments, and then we'll figure out what's next from there.” Theron paused, and then asked curiously, “Did you try to reach her at all, through your bond? I know what she said, but... I was just wondering.”

Arcann folded his arms across his chest, and nodded after a moment. “She essentially did the equivalent of slamming the door in my face. I can feel her, very distantly, enough to know she's there, and not hurt. That's it. We're on our own,” he admitted.

“Great. This is just.. great. Let's get started. This is going to be a really long day no matter what we do.” 

"More than one really long day," the prince replied ambiguously, giving Theron a sidelong glance. "Let's go talk to Hylo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to embrace the idea of leaving the guys together for a while. ;) Those of you who are to blame for this know who you are. I couldn't get it out of my head.. so it begins.


	32. How To Fight Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cooperation game hits a snag, and devolves from there into just.. hitting. Selirah and Pierce go out and paint the town Empire Red.

**Odessen (Theron and Arcann):**

After one full day and a half of working with Arcann, Theron had come to one inescapable conclusion. It had to be a biological defense mechanism that had made the prince physically attractive, because his attitude sometimes made Theron want to murder him. 

The first day had been difficult, and they'd argued several times over the right way to handle a problem or direct a mission, but had eventually reached an agreement. Today, however, Arcann had been stubborn, intractable, and finally had dug in on a simple decision about taking action on a report about output from the Darvannis factories. After an hour of argument, Theron threw up his hands and left the room, too aggravated to even keep talking about the issue.

Arcann came looking for him finally, late that night, and from the moment he came through the door, it was pretty obvious to Theron that he had no intention of compromising. “You don't get to just walk away, Theron. I don't care how annoyed you are at me. We had a decision to make, and they're not always going to end up going your way,” the prince snapped at him, stopping nearly toe to toe with Theron, his blue eyes coldly furious. “There's no reason not to increase the production on the lines to keep pace with the patrols that the Empress wants on Zakuul, and if we expand here on Odessen, we'll need more troops here as well.”

“Those increases have a cost, and maybe you don't care about that kind of detail, as was evident from the job you were doing running Zakuul...”

“Really? Because I think the ones who were suffering under -my- rule were mostly your conquered worlds. If you'd had better strategists and defenses, maybe you wouldn't have been defeated so quickly!” 

Theron made a frustrated sound, his hands tightening into fists, and as he felt his temper surging into overdrive, he saw a very brief flicker of a look on Arcann's face, a familiar expression of triumph akin to the way he used to look towards the beginning of his relationship with Selirah, when he'd goaded Theron constantly. “Your own people turned on you, Arcann, which is why Seli rules your worlds now and not you. They aided us in overthrowing you and your sister. I'm not discounting your expertise. But we don't need to increase production right now. It can wait till we start expanding the base here, or building more housing. Increasing production increases costs, and we're not forcing tribute from the Republic or the Sith Empire like you were.” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and not give Arcann the fight he seemed to be hoping to provoke.

“Maybe we should be. They were conquered quickly before, and they could be again. You can't tell me that you don't think things would be better if Selirah was in charge of the whole galaxy,” Arcann retorted sharply, stepping into Theron's space even more pointedly, making him step back before he realized what he was doing. 

Theron's jaw tightened visibly in anger. “No, we shouldn't be. Don't you think that people have had enough of war? Small skirmishes and rebellions aside, the galaxy is peaceful right now, at least somewhat. Even Seli has said that she's tired of constant war.”

“She says that, but she thrives in battle. You've seen her. You know that she loves it. Even without being able to feel her emotions, you know better than to say she is tired of war. If anything, she's probably growing tired of peace. It has nothing to offer her.”

“It has nothing to offer YOU. You want her back at war with the Republic, and with the Sith Empire. You want her fighting all the time, because you know you'll always get to be with her on the battlefield and that my particular abilities mean that I'll be apart from her more often. Is this all about having her to yourself? It's ridiculously selfish to agitate for war just so you can keep trying to push me out of her life, Arcann. Grow up!” 

Arcann laughed, a smirk twisting his smile into a mocking expression that pricked Theron's anger even further. “I want her fighting because she loves to fight. I don't want to watch her passion fade, or worse, be redirected elsewhere because there is no battle to keep her feeling alive. If you understood her better, Theron, you would be smart enough to fear what happens when a warrior is deprived of war.”

“I understand her better than you ever could. You think you're superior to me because of your bond with her, but you are still just a selfish, spoiled brat with daddy issues!”

“I -know- I'm superior to you. Do you really want to try to throw insults about bad parents, Theron -Shan-? Your father opposes us, and your mother... well. Let's see, where is MY mother? Oh yes.. here. Helping -us-.”

“And where's your father, Arcann? Why don't you tell me about the amazing relationship you had with him!” They were toe to toe at this point, shouting at each other, and some part of Theron knew that this was a huge mistake on his part. He just felt so angry and tired of Arcann's stubborn refusal to agree with him that he couldn't back down again. He was tired of compromising with him. It wasn't happening -this- time. He saw Arcann's fists tightening, the knuckles of his right hand paling from the pressure. 

“I helped her defeat my father. What have you done to bring your own parents into line? Nothing! They are likely helping the Republic plan action against us even as we speak, and you do nothing, Theron. What does that make -you-?”

Stung, Theron pushed the bigger man back, out of his face, feeling a snarl of anger welling up in his chest. Arcann pushed back with one hand, and Theron could feel the extra strength that the force gave the prince in the gesture as he was forced back several steps. Then he wasn't really thinking rationally at all when he barreled straight into Arcann's midsection, delivering several sharp punches before he could react. 

Arcann grunted in pain and pushed him off with enough force to fling Theron backwards and onto the couch in an untidy and painful sprawl. The look on his face was half-joy and half-rage, pleased that Theron had lost his temper at him, and furious that he'd dared to hit him. “I'll tell you what it makes you, Theron. A coward. You can claim that you have no relationship with your parents all that you want, but you know they are influential and powerful in the Republic. If you tried to pursue any kind of alliance or joint force with the Republic, they might listen to you. I think you hate the idea because it would mean you wouldn't get to pretend you have no ability to change the way things are. You love playing your spy games and digging in everyone's plans, but you claim to want to preserve peace at the same time. If we had peace, what would there be for you to do? You'd be just as obsolete as Seli feels now.”

Theron glared at Arcann, but something in his words felt painfully accurate. “That's not true,” he argued, but he wasn't even sure which parts of it that he disagreed with, right now in this moment. “I do want peace. For all of our sakes. I think it would be the best way to heal and develop a healthy society. But I don't think my parents would be interested in any idea like that if it doesn't benefit the Republic the most. I don't think either of them would really listen to me, either.”

“How would you know? You haven't really even tried. If they come for us, the way that we -both- know that they will eventually.. don't think that I won't point out to Selirah that you could have tried to find common ground with them and never did. They'll turn on us fully at some point. You need to figure out whose side you'll be on when it happens.”

“I'm on Selirah's side like I always have been! You can't say anything like that, can you? How incredibly convenient for you that you joined the winning side right at the end, and then managed to seduce your way into her bed.” Theron heard himself say the words, but it was already too late to stop them from leaving his lips by the time he'd realized how terrible they were. 

Arcann's fist hitting his face was not even slightly surprising to him, because Theron knew he deserved it for that comment. Neither was the equally fast follow up uppercut to his chin that laid him out on the floor flat on his back. Shaking off the ringing in his head as he got back up, Theron launched himself into the prince, and they both hit the ground, rattling the flooring underneath the soft rugs that Selirah favored in her quarters. Arcann got in two more solid punches that rang Theron's bell before he got back in close enough to counteract the prince's longer reach. 

When Lana and Vette reached the door of the room, they were staggering to their feet. “Stop it, both of you!” Lana shouted, just as Theron punched Arcann squarely in the right eye, knocking him back to his knees. The prince retaliated with a short, powerful punch to the midsection that folded Theron up, a wheeze of pain escaping his lips as he crumpled. And then Lana and Vette were between them, separating them hastily. Vette dragged Arcann back by his cybernetic hand, pulling him out into the hall. Theron could see the fury in his pale blue eyes over the top of Vette's head while she was hustling him out the door, but the prince let himself be taken out by the slim little Twi'lek, settling down into angry pacing once he'd been pulled away.

“What were you thinking, Theron?? I told you to get along with him!” Lana snapped, and Theron had the grace to blush in the face of her anger as she pushed him down onto the couch, examining the bruises and cuts to his face. “You idiot. If you didn't agree with his choice, you should have worked it out. You did so well the first day.”

“He was driving me crazy, Lana! You weren't here, you don't know what it's like trying to get him to agree to anything. I swear he argues with me just to be contrary!” Theron protested, glaring at Arcann as Vette checked his swelling eye and split lip, applying kolto gel to the prince's cuts as she talked to him in a low tone in the hall.

“So what if he does? You have to learn to work with him. You can't punch people because they're irritating you. I'd have knocked every one of you out multiple times if I did that,” Lana pointed out acerbically, and Theron, startled, laughed at the thought. 

“Yeah, alright. I know.” He sighed after a moment, flexing his fingers. They felt bruised across the knuckles, and the skin was split in a few places. “I lost my temper.”

“Impressively so, from what I saw. We'll all work together, tomorrow. But you two have got to do better. Selirah's going to be pissed, if she doesn't already know what happened here. Get some rest, and we'll start bright and early tomorrow.”

“Of course we will,” Theron replied dryly, ignoring Lana's annoyed stare. She dropped a kolto gel pack in his lap and stalked out, pausing to speak to Arcann as well. Far from looking even slightly chastened at Lana's words, though, the prince merely nodded, his jaw set stubbornly under the already darkening shiner he was sporting around his eye.

This was going to be a long night, and Selirah had only been gone for about three days so far. If they hadn't killed each other by the time she'd been gone for a week, it'd be a kriffing Life Day miracle.

**Nar Shaddaa, earlier the same day (Selirah):**

Major Colin Pierce patted Broonmark on the back in friendly greeting as he passed him on the way outside to the open air terrace of Selirah's large, luxurious home on Nar Shaddaa. He only knew that she owned it because she'd told him years ago; when he had tried to track down the ownership for himself, the trail of shell corporations and false sales was so convoluted and deceptive that he'd finally given up in disgust, until the day she'd mentioned that it was hers once during a shared alcoholic bender they'd gone on in the wake of her separation from Quinn. She'd been far more chatty than usual that night, and had spilled any number of juicy tidbits during the course of the evening. He'd never tell anyone what she'd said, of course. But her willingness to share her private business with him had given him hope at the time that perhaps someday his lord might turn her attention to him on a more serious and permanent basis than just an evening's pleasure. 

Some time later, she'd met Theron Shan on Manaan, and well.. that had been the end of that particular hope. 

He'd seen the light in Selirah's eyes when she came back to the ship after the first visit to the water planet, and between that and Vette's irrepressible urge to talk out of turn, had learned all about the handsome Republic SIS agent that had joined forces with his lord and Lana Beniko. He knew the look she'd worn that day quite well. He'd seen her look the same way when she was watching that unfairly lucky bastard Quinn over the years, and Pierce knew perfectly well what it meant. She'd met someone who intrigued her, and he was going to be relegated back to his bunk again; and that's exactly what had happened. He didn't have any particular hurt feelings about it... it was the way it worked, when you were in the path of a Sith. You enjoyed the singular fire of their passion while it was aimed at you, and didn't sulk when the heat of that regard moved on to someone else.

Stepping out onto the terrace, Pierce crossed the space at a purposeful walk, catching sight of his lord standing by the edge with her hands on the railing. Selirah wasn't clad in her usual armor, but that wasn't uncommon in the few times he'd seen her here in this luxury sanctuary of hers. Almost no one was aware that she owned it, and her security was heavy. Her legs and feet were bare, a small pair of fitted shorts clinging to her hips. The shirt she was wearing was too big for her, and he knew it was either Arcann's or Theron's; she always brought something of theirs with her when she was away from them, though he wasn't sure if either of them was aware of this little habit of hers. Selirah had never liked to be seen as sentimental or soft, and she rarely showed that side of herself to anyone, even to those closest to her. The space that he occupied was somewhere between her friends and her lovers, and so he had access to a certain kind of information that the other two groups didn't.

Small consolation, when he used to share a far more privileged and pleasurable position than the one he occupied now. But his devotion to Selirah was absolute, and Pierce had no intention of ever giving her reason to doubt it simply because he desperately envied the people she gave her affection to, years later.

“All's well, m'lord. No communications, no security alerts. Were you still wanting to go out tonight?” he asked, stopping a few feet away from her back to wait for a response. 

She stirred, obviously lost in thought, and turned to glance at Pierce. Her lavender eyes focused slowly on his face, and Selirah offered an engaging smile to him. “Of course. I think I should like to go dancing. Would you care to accompany me, Colin?” 

He caught the feeling of startlement before it did much more than widen his eyes. She hadn't used his first name in years, not since.. well, not since before she'd met Agent Shan. “Certainly, m'lord. Can't promise that I won't step on those little feet of yours, though. I'm about as graceful as I look, and I look like a clumsy icetromper bull.”

“I doubt that very much, Colin. You make a practice of appearing to be less than what you really are. But you and I both know what you actually are is something quite different, don't we?” she replied. It wasn't quite her usual bold, flirtatious manner when she had something in mind for him, but Pierce couldn't quite suppress the leap in his pulse that resulted from the flattering comment, either. “I'll go get ready. Do try to be less conspicuously armored, Colin. We're incognito tonight. Just a wealthy lady and her companion out for a good time, hmm?”

Nodding in understanding, Pierce watched her go, her hips giving an enticing swing beneath the hem of the too-large shirt engulfing her torso as if she knew he was watching. He shook his head, smirking at his own foolishness. His lord was nothing if not a Sith to her bones; she was probably just playing around with him for her own amusement.

Probably. 

**Club Vertica, late that evening (Selirah):**

Selirah had known that anyone who fought as hard as Pierce did would be a competent dancer too, and she'd not been disappointed. He was tireless and made her laugh, and her feet remained undamaged in their delicately strappy heels. Gentlemanly as always, in his own rough way, he'd kept his hands to the most innocent of places even though she could sense his desire without applying much effort at all. The hour was growing late when she finally left the dance floor with Pierce an ominously looming shadow over her shoulder, preventing any brave suitors from approaching the scantily clad Twi'lek and asking her to join them instead.

Tired of the flashing, headache-inducing lights of the club, and exhausted from the long night, Selirah let Pierce get a taxi for them both, accepting the aid of a hand in from the burly soldier as well before settling in the seat with a sigh. She didn't even open her eyes when he lifted her legs onto his lap, removing the shoes from her sore feet, and she was out completely when they arrived back at her home. Pierce lifted her easily in his arms, her head resting against his broad shoulder, and carried her in as the droid-piloted taxi left the platform, her shoes dangling from the fingers of one hand.

Selirah stirred sleepily as he settled her into bed, lifting her arms at his urging so he could lift the lightweight silk of her dress off over her head. “Thank you, Colin,” she managed, her voice drowsy and half-asleep as he slid a large shirt back over her head, gently guiding her arms through the sleeves and laying her back down in the bed. This one was Theron's, she could tell. It smelled like him, his skin, the woodsy-clean scent of his favorite soap. She wrapped her arms around herself, breathing the familiar scent and thinking of him as sleep closed in on her rapidly.

“You're welcome, m'lord. Go to sleep. We'll be keeping watch.”

She woke with a choked gasp less than an hour later, her fists balled up around the sheets. Pierce was in the room a moment later, skidding to the bedside hastily as if expecting to find an assassin in the room. Selirah was bent over her stomach, one hand over her face, and Pierce was careful not to touch her, in case she wasn't awake yet, but she turned to look at him, and though her eyes were strange for a moment, wide and nearly black, he realized quickly that her pupils were just making her eyes look dark. She was breathing rapidly, her face twisted in pain or anger, and slowly her eyes focused again, fixing on Pierce's face.

“Are you alright, m'lord?” he asked, glancing around the room again, making sure it was just the two of them there and nothing he could see was actually wrong.

Selirah nodded, her hands moving to her lap, fingers relaxing and her face smoothing into a noncommittal expression as she woke up fully. “I'm fine. It was just.. it was a bad dream.” Pierce nodded, getting to his feet to leave her to her privacy. “Wait,” she interjected impulsively, seeing him start to turn to head out of the room. 

He glanced back at her, his dark brown eyes returning to her face, one brow arched inquisitively. “Yes, m'lord?”

“Will you stay? Keep me company? Please.” The last word was almost inaudible, but Pierce heard it. He nodded his head in answer, holding up a hand in a gesture to wait a moment. He leaned out the door, and she could hear him speaking to Broonmark in a low tone, and the fluting response that the Talz gave. Then he returned to the room, unfastening his chest armor and setting it on the table beside the bed before stretching out atop the covers next to his lord as she settled back under them. “Thank you, Colin.”

“No need for that, m'lord. It's always a pleasure to serve,” he replied quietly, watching over her as she drifted back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of things going on in my head for all of this and it's proving to make it hard for me to settle what goes where into each chapter's content. *laughs* But I think it's ironed out now.


	33. Got Me Twisted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seli's dreams affect Arcann and cause an embarrassing situation that ends up sort of working itself out. After a manner of speaking.

Returning to the room an hour later, Arcann paused in the doorway, a frown touching his lips at the sight of Theron already curled up sleeping in bed. Stepping inside the room, he let the door close behind him, leaning his back against it. Touching fingers lightly to his swollen eye, he gazed across the room at Theron silently. Angry as he was, he had to admire the other man's willingness to fight him over what he believed, wrong or right. Theron knew what he could do to him if he'd wanted to, and he'd still fought him anyway. It was courageous. Stupid... but courageous.

Without thinking, he reached out for Selirah. It was a strain, and it took a few minutes of concentration, but finally he felt her, far away. She was sleeping, and in her sleep, her shields were not quite as ironclad as her waking ones were. Her thoughts were slow and ordered, and coincidentally, were also of Theron. Keeping a light touch on her as she dreamed, he moved into the room, undressing quietly and finding a pair of soft shorts in his locker, leaving the door slightly ajar to keep from waking Theron with the noise of the heavy door latching. 

Sliding into bed on the side he preferred, Arcann rolled onto his side, glancing at Theron. He was wrapped around Selirah's pillow, likely because it smelled of her spicy-sweet natural scent, something that had always reminded Arcann of one of his favorite foods, amusingly. There was something so enticing about that kind of flavor on the tongue, the sweet cutting the bite of the spice, resulting in a memorably savory taste. He couldn't blame Theron for being drawn to the scent of her skin lingering on the pillowcase; stars only knew when she'd be back again, especially after their performance today, which he wasn't foolish enough to think she hadn't been told in detail about by Lana and probably had known about even before that.

His attention returned to Theron's face, young-looking, slightly marred by a matching shiner on his face that Arcann had given him. He smiled a little at the sight, unreasonably amused by the fact that he'd at least not be the only one sporting a black eye tomorrow at Lana's meeting. As he went to sleep, Arcann let himself sink into the link between himself and Selirah, comforted by the flicker of her thoughts and emotions as he drifted off. 

Hours later, Theron woke slowly a little earlier than the usual time, realizing as he came awake that Arcann was pressed against his back, his arm around Theron's waist. He also quickly realized that there was no way that the prince was awake, because he was rather obviously aroused and since he knew that Arcann wasn't turned on by him, he was probably dreaming about Selirah. Laying still, unsure what to do, or if he should do anything at all, Theron's decision-making process stuttered to a truncated halt when he felt the prince's arm tighten around him, pulling him back against his groin firmly. Then his lips touched the back of Theron's neck, and a little wash of panic hit him with the thought that Arcann would wake up and blame him somehow for this situation.

He attempted to squirm free, but escaping the grip of his cybernetic arm was even more difficult than it would have been with the right arm, and the movement of his hips against Arcann's wasn't exactly having a calming effect on the other man, either. This was just... great. Trying to gently dislodge his arm from around him also didn't work; he just ignored the attempt, and in the process, bit Theron's neck right where it joined the shoulder, making him shudder in unwilling pleasure. This had the added effect of making -Theron- start to harden in response, and he groaned aloud in frustration, finally deciding to try to wake the prince up. 

“Arcann, wake up before this gets a lot more awkward for both of us than it already is,” he said loudly, trying to at least twist over onto his back, an action that he finally managed after a bit of painful negotiation around Arcann's solid grip on his waist. From this vantage point, he could see that he was definitely asleep, but when Theron shook his shoulder gently, his eyes opened halfway, the pupils widely distended, making the blue of his irises a mere ring around them. 

Arcann looked at Theron, unable to make himself look away, awash in Selirah's emotions and desire. He wanted what she wanted when they were this deeply open to each other, and what she wanted was Theron. He slid closer against Theron's side, watching his expression, reading the shock and uncertainty in them, and he could feel Seli's dreaming mind twine with his own emotions, overpowering his reticence. Her passion in his mind pushed on him, leaning on his thoughts till his hand slide down over Theron's side, fingers trailing over his ribs and belly, feeling the muscles tighten as he drew in a desperate breath. 

“Arcann.. what are you... “ Theron started, but when the prince's fingers curved around his cock suddenly, the words failed him and he quivered helplessly in pleasure under the touch. His eyes grew round in surprise, and his body reacted predictably by hardening further when Arcann's hand slid slowly up his length. 

Selirah's lust flooded Arcann's mind and he tensed, knowing he was already hard too, but not sure he could remember why or how. Was it Theron against him in the bed, or dreams of Selirah? Or both? 

Theron watched Arcann's face above his, unsure if he should react or not. The prince's expression was strange, remote, his eyes distantly bemused and fixed on his hand where it was wrapped intimately around Theron. Then it clicked suddenly. Selirah. “Is this her, or you? It must be her,” he said softly, reaching up to cup Arcann's bruised face in his hands, bringing his gaze up to his face, waiting to see if he would focus on him. “Wake up, Arcann.”

Arcann felt Theron's hands on his face, and he blinked slowly, feeling Selirah's sleeping mind push back. He withdrew from her, forcing the bond to thin, to let her return to her own dreams. Releasing Theron carefully, he pulled back physically, putting a little space between himself and the other man. “I'm sorry, Theron. She... she was dreaming of you, and...” He made a helpless gesture with one hand, rolling over onto his back. “It's hard to explain.”

“I figured as much, after I woke up and realized what was going on. I didn't think you'd suddenly changed your mind,” Theron replied wryly, trying to ignore the painful state of his body after being teased into arousal so easily by Arcann's touch. “I mean.. I wouldn't object if you had, but I did know you hadn't.”

Arcann smiled faintly, his blue eyes focused upwards at the ceiling in the dimly lit room. “I know, Theron. I am sorry. I didn't realize what was even happening at first. I was awake, in a way, but not completely in control of what I was doing. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” He paused for a moment, his jaw working briefly as if he was struggling to say something else, and then he said quickly, “And I'm sorry that I hit you. And for the things that I said. I was angry and I should have just left it alone, not picked a fight.”

Theron glanced down at himself briefly, closing his eyes and trying to think of something other than where Arcann's hand had just been. “Uncomfortable is a very mild term for it,” he said lightly, forcing a laugh. “I did hit you first, though. And I apologize for that, and for what I said. I didn't mean it.. it was just my frustration speaking. I should never have said it to you. I don't dislike you. Obviously,” he added, feeling heat flood his cheeks. 

Rolling onto his side, Arcann propped his head up on his hand, watching Theron quietly for a few minutes. “Selirah and I put you in a difficult position. I'm not unaware of that, and I'm grateful for the concessions you've made. I just assumed it was only because you wanted her to be happy.”

“And not because I wanted you, too? I don't .. I try not to think about it. You're.. well. I'm not blind. But I'd be lying if I said you didn't make me want to punch you at least a few times a week, too. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, and I've never talked to Seli about..”

“About what?” Arcann's attention sharpened suddenly, and Theron felt the focus of his regard intensify. He wasn't sure what had precipitated the change, but some part of him felt pleased by it; flattered even.

“About.. you. That I'm attracted to you.” Theron looked incredibly embarrassed, but he pushed onwards anyway, determined not to keep burying everything he thought under layers of obfuscation. “I don't know what she'd feel about it, honestly. She can be.. unpredictable, in her responses.”

“Yes, she can.” The prince looked thoughtfully at him. “Why didn't you admit it to me? You had to know I'd noticed. I'm not blind either. I saw right away that you were interested, though I'll agree it was mostly about the physical, because I wasn't making myself very easy to like at the time.”

Theron sighed pointedly. “Why would I tell you? You would have just used it against me. Or mocked me.” 

“I'm not mocking you now.” The baldly stated comment caught Theron a little bit by surprise, and he eyed Arcann mistrustfully, uncertain about the proper response.

“No, you're not. But you're not confessing to being attracted either, so I'm not sure what you want me to take away from that.” Theron shrugged, pulling the covers up over his waist in a vain attempt to just end the uncomfortable conversation before it got even more strange. “Go to sleep, Arcann. It's not quite time to get up for the meeting, and there's no reason to lose out on a bit more rest.”

“Alright, Theron, but don't pretend I didn't give you the opportunity to say what you were really thinking and feeling to me. I'm trying to be fair, here.”

Theron closed his eyes, resolutely keeping silent. He even managed to stick to that idea for at least five minutes, but it was driving him crazy. “I did say what I was thinking! You only wanted me earlier because she does. It was her feelings, not yours.” 

“You'd probably see it differently if you had her view of you in -your- mind. It's not hard to understand why she is attracted to you, and I'm not indifferent to her feelings. The fact that they're her feelings doesn't mean that I can't understand them, or appreciate them. Are you trying to say you wouldn't try anything right now, if you knew I would be receptive to it?”

Something about the conversation felt odd to Theron. The way that Arcann phrased things, or his tone as he said them.. but it could just be him, and how he was. He wasn't as close to him as Selirah was, and maybe he was seeing smoke where there wasn't actually any fire. “No.. I mean.. I'm not saying that, but I don't know that. You're not exactly saying that, are you? You're just being hypothetical, and that's not the same thing.”

“Make a move, or don't, Theron. I'm not going to tell you what to do about your own feelings. But you didn't see me being hesitant about what I wanted, whether you like my method or not.” He rolled onto his back again, eyes closed. 

The sheets that Theron had pulled up on himself were still lingering around Arcann's hips, drawing his eyes downwards to the admittedly attractive sight of his flat, muscular stomach and narrow hips, the soft sheet laying bunched around his hips. Theron could feel his hands curling into fists, trying to keep himself from touching him, even though he had pretty much given the green light to him with his comments. Make a move, or don't, Theron... it was almost funny, being given that advice from someone who clearly had no trouble making a move when -he- wanted to do so. 

Somewhere in the middle of that thought, his hand uncurled, and reached out, his fingers running lightly over the prince's stomach. He froze as Arcann's eyes opened, but the other man didn't say anything, merely watching him silently. Theron took a deep breath, gathering his courage, and his hand flattened on Arcann's skin, feeling the warmth of his body, and the slow rise and fall of his stomach with his breathing. His hand slid lower, hesitantly, expecting to be stopped at any moment. But other than a faint quirk of his lips that wasn't quite an amused smile, Arcann didn't stop him, even as his fingers caught the edges of his shorts, pulling them down over his hips along with the concealing sheet. 

He'd seen him naked, of course, plenty of times. It was impossible not to, given that they lived together and slept in the same bed. But it'd always been with Selirah in the middle of them, their attention on her, and not on each other. At least.. mostly on her. It'd be a lie to claim he hadn't appreciated the view and wished he could touch or.. more.. when they were all together. He hadn't wanted to risk overstepping, though, either with Selirah or with Arcann, but now, with him letting Theron indulge himself, it seemed rude not to at least get a real, lingering look. And maybe do quite a bit more than simply look. The expanse of hard muscled belly led his fingers down to close slowly around the length of his shaft, and Theron risked a glance upwards to see that Arcann's eyes were closed again, his lips parted slightly. His breathing had quickened noticeably, and when Theron closed his fingers more firmly, his wrist flicking with a slow, cautious stroke upwards, he saw the prince shudder lightly in response, his cock thickening in his grip, growing slowly harder. 

The reservations he'd had flew out of his mind, as did pretty much everything else except the rush of desire he felt watching Arcann's hips move in rhythm with his hand as he slid his fingers over his cock, his thumb gliding lightly over the tip, provoking another sexy shiver. Letting his hand slide downwards, Theron edged closer, casting a quick look up at Arcann's face before he leaned down, daring greatly to run his tongue up the underside of his cock. He felt fingers in his hair, and heard the prince's deep voice above him. “Open your mouth,” Arcann ordered thickly, guiding Theron's head as he took the head into his mouth, closing his eyes. Keeping his hand in Theron's hair, he seemed content otherwise to let him decide the pace, not exerting any force to push his head down or make him take any more than he wanted. 

Theron worked his hand around Arcann's cock in rhythm with his mouth and tongue, keeping his teeth from scraping the sleek, firm skin, tasting the salt-sweet droplets. There was no way of knowing how much time had passed; it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Theron didn't care. He'd spent so much time trying to ignore his desire for Arcann that now, given the chance to finally do something about it, he couldn't make himself be concerned that a part of him knew that the prince was unlikely to return the favor, or even let it go any further than this. It was entirely possible that he was thinking of Selirah right now with his eyes closed, but Theron didn't really care about that either while he had him between his lips and on his tongue, his hand wrapped firmly around his thick, hard cock. He could hear the prince's breathing coming shorter and quicker, his belly tense with pleasure, and when his fingers tightened in his hair abruptly, Theron knew to be ready for the sudden, rough jerk of his hips and the first spill of hot, salty fluid that hit his tongue. He slid his mouth down further, letting the rest of Arcann's climax spill down his throat, swallowing quickly so he didn't choke. The prince's grip on his hair loosened, his fingers sliding through the strands in a near-caress before he released Theron entirely, letting his hand fall to the bed, fingers curved upwards slightly. 

Withdrawing his mouth slowly, Theron licked his lips, tasting him on his skin as he moved up the bed, his fingers drifting up over the sharp line of Arcann's hip. Instead of pushing him away or withdrawing as he'd half-expected him to do as soon as he'd had his pleasure, the prince drew Theron closer to him, his unscarred cheek resting against the top of his head as Theron wrapped his arm around his waist. And before he could spend a lot of time worrying about the implications of what they'd done.. what he'd done?.. he found himself drifting back into sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had half of this written out in a completely different manner last night, and then I got up this morning and gutted it and rewrote it. *laughs* That happens to me more often than I like to admit. I just completely rethink it and go "Nope, that's not the direction that scene is going to go at all". Also I think I might need to update my tags again. >.>
> 
> Anyway! There it is, presented without further comment.


	34. Point Of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah pretends to be well-adjusted, and goes out drinking, and mistakes are made. Arcann and Theron deal with facing potential fallout.

**Nar Shaddaa:**

A career soldier, Pierce had never lost the habit of waking early, even after returning to his lord's service where he knew she had very few expectations of him in the early hours unless he was on watch duty. She was, to say the least, not a morning person, and seldom arose early without reason. So when he heard her stirring early after a late night out dancing, he knew immediately that something was wrong, or at least out of the ordinary. He opened his eyes, still laying on his side, his cheek pillowed on one hand, and glanced over at Selirah. 

She was awake, laying on her back, her right hand curled into a fist at her side on top of the covers. Her expression was stark.. stricken, her skin pale even through the crimson shade of her normal coloration. The moment that she realized that he was awake, she turned away from him silently, giving him her back and pulling the covers up to her neck. He gave it a moment or two, and then rose, picking up his armor from the side table on his way out of her room. It seemed wise to leave her alone for the time being, and he could relieve Broonmark for a while and let the Talz get some rest as well. 

Out in the hall, Broonmark's tall, shaggy form turned towards him, glancing at him incuriously from two pairs of dark eyes. _Sith is angry_ , the beast said in Talzzi, the fluting, sonorous language of his people. _We can feel it even out here. We will see blood on our claws again soon._

Pierce regarded him silently, his brown eyes cutting back towards the closed door with a concerned frown. “You can tell that she's angry?” he asked in a low voice, guiding Broonmark away from the door with one hand and moving down the hall, hoping their conversation would not reach her attention that way. His booted feet were silent on the thick, lush carpeting, but his armor was far from quiet, and he did not want her hearing them if she was likely to take it amiss in some way.

 _Oh yes. Sith is angry. She will take us with her to fight. This is good._ It was often hard to tell when Broonmark was happy; Talz didn't really have faces that conveyed emotion very well, if at all. But Pierce could feel the anticipatory energy coming off the immense, furry creature. If he was correct about Selirah's frame of mind, he clearly was anticipating quite a fight.

“Get some rest, Broonmark. I'll fetch you if she has need of you, but I'll take watch for now,” Pierce mused, slapping the furry beast on the back. Broonmark made a brief sound of agreement, and headed off to one of the empty guest chambers, the door hissing closed behind him a moment later. Casting another glance at the door, Pierce pulled out his holo, making a call as he moved into the entry hall, still hoping against hope that she would not suddenly come out of her bedroom and catch him red-handed as Vette's small form appeared in answer to the call. 

“What's up, Pierce? Tired of the luxurious life already? I could take your place. I sure could use a vacation!” the little Twi'lek greeted him cheerfully.

“No.. but do me a favor. Keep your nosy little ear cones to the ground today and let me know if you see anything out of the ordinary, yeah?” Even in the small, hand-held holo image, he could see Vette's face light up with curiosity, so he lied quickly, “I have to go, she's calling for me. Message me if you get anything.” He disconnected immediately and sat down on the stairs, folding his arms across his knees.

A half an hour later, Selirah emerged from her room. Much to his surprise, she was wearing shorts and one of her own lightweight tank tops, and was barefoot rather than being clad in the armor he'd expected to see. “Come with me out to the terrace, Colin. We haven't sparred in far too long, and I think I could use a refresher course, don't you?”

Pierce knew there was a right answer to that, and a very, very wrong one.. and he'd been with her for too long to take the wrong option. “I doubt very much that you need any practice, m'lord,” he replied, chuckling at the thought. “But if you'd like to throw me around the terrace, I can take the beating.” 

“No playing nice. I want you to make me work.” She led him out of the antechamber, preceding him down the stairs, her bare feet soundless on the steps. He followed behind her, the unfastening armor pieces as he went. They paused in the lounge at the bottom of the stairs, and he stripped off the remainder of his armor, leaving him clad in pants and a light undershirt of a stretchy fabric that was clearly working hard to cover his barrel chest and wide shoulders. Her eyes flickered over him speculatively, but she only smiled faintly and beckoned him along outside. 

“Oh, I'll get you sweated up plenty, m'lord, if that's what you're looking for,” Pierce answered as they stepped out onto the wide terrace, cocking a brow, a faint smile curving his lips as he settled back on his heels with his arms crossed.

“Selirah. Save the my lord nonsense for the people who need to stand on rank. I think we're long past that, aren't we, Colin?” she offered, a sly smile curving her lips at the obvious surprise on his face. 

“Of course, m... er... Selirah,” Pierce managed, stumbling a little bit over the change after so many years of only referring to her as her rank or as the Wrath. He hadn't called her by name for a long time, and then, only in private, and he still wasn't quite used to the idea of her being the Empress. It was challenging not to let the sudden permissiveness fool him into thinking that she was considering a return to their previous relationship, but there was no reason to believe that was the case. She had more than enough on her plate when it came to men as it was, and there was nothing wrong between them. Unless that was the reason she'd been so strange this morning. Suddenly, Pierce wished Vette had found something out and contacted him, or that she would soon.

Distracted with his thoughts, he didn't even see her move, though when he thought of it later, she had probably augmented her speed. He could hardly fault her for using the force to spar with him; he was nearly twice her size, and physically quite a bit stronger, if she were someone other than who she was. Her leg swept his ankles with considerable violence, knocking his legs out from under him sharply. Before he'd even hit the ground, Selirah was on him, her hands locked around one wrist, twisting it painfully backwards and up behind his back, her knees gripping his hips. Slamming into the floor with a pained grunt, Pierce had to catch a breath before he could laugh the way he wanted to. Selirah's lips nearly brushed his ear, her breath a warm touch against his skin. “You're going to have to do better than that,” she said mockingly.

Despite the sharp pain in the arm she had in her grip, Pierce rolled over on top of her, listening for and hearing a furious grunt as his weight forced the air from her lungs in a rush. His head snapped back, rapping her right in the forehead, and her hands fell away almost instantly at the painful blow. He finished rolling off her, and was on his feet before she could shake off the hit and grab him again. Instead, she got back up, balancing lightly on the balls of her feet.

“Better, eh?” he taunted, circling her slowly. She grinned at him, a feral, warrior's smile, and when he closed with her, aiming a jabbing punch at her jaw, the Twi'lek dropped under the punch, retaliating with a sharp jab to his kidney that made him wheeze but didn't stop him from kicking her directly in the bent knee, knocking her backwards. She rolled with the hit, coming to her feet again, and closed with him again. 

A half an hour later, they were both panting for breath, bruised, and bleeding in more than a few places. Selirah had a bloody lip, a bruised shoulder, and had wrenched her ankle badly enough to take going dancing out of the equation for a day or two at least. And Pierce was sporting a number of impressive bruises, two ribs that felt cracked, and had a his head tilted back against the wall, pinching his nose to make it stop bleeding. She seemed to be in good spirits, though, and had even offered to heal him; a nearly unheard of offer even when someone was bleeding out right in front of her. It would have been foolish to refuse her, and Pierce wasn't about to ruin the rapport that they'd been building by turning her down on this, of all things.

Once it was actually happening, however, he rather wished he had said no. He'd been healed by Yariele once, after the battle on Odessen, when he'd been injured seriously defending his position. The Jedi's healing touch had been like a warm, soothing light, gentle and painless. This felt absolutely nothing like that. Instead, it was like a blistering fire, burning through his veins and cauterizing his injuries. Pierce found himself unable to bear it in complete silence; it was just too painful. Selirah's expression had changed very slightly at the grunt of agony that escaped him as his ribs knit under her ministrations, a faintly amused smirk curving her lips. “There you are, tough guy,” she said lightly, slapping his shoulder. “I think you can let go of your nose now, too.”

“Thank you, m'lo.. er... Selirah.” He got to his feet slowly, twisting back and forth to check the ribs, but other than some residual tenderness, they felt fine, solid. 

“Don't go telling everyone that I can do that. They'll start whining to me with every skinned knee or blaster bolt to the gut, and I'm not interested in playing medic. As you can tell, it's not really where my skills lie,” she admitted, lifting one imperious hand that Pierce took immediately, easily lifting her to her feet as well. “I'm going to the 'fresher. Answer any calls for me, will you?”

“Of course. Tell 'em that you're busy?”

“Tell them whatever you like. I don't want to talk to anyone. This is my vacation.” She walked away, favoring her twisted ankle. Somehow the faint limp managed to come across as swagger instead of infirmity, Pierce noted wryly, watching her go before he set about cleaning up the mess they'd made of the furniture on the terrace. One chair was completely beyond repair, but most of the rest of it was easily righted, and once he was finished with that, he headed inside, entering her room while he rerouted her frequency to his own device to make it easier for him to play secretary until she tired of this hermit gambit she was pursuing. 

He knew something was going on in that head of hers, but it was not her way to share or even vent without reason. Nothing escaped her that hadn't been assessed and decided upon as suitable to reveal. She had always been that way, her thoughts guarded as heavily as a Jedi's virtue. Some part of him felt like that was the reason she'd always favored him and given him so much access to her; he wasn't the curious sort, generally, and he didn't usually try to pry. Broonmark was just as indifferent to her personal business, and the Talz barely even tolerated anyone except for Selirah and Pierce, whom he had become fond of over their many years of working together.

The holo activated while he was lost in his musings, and Pierce answered it, hoping for Vette, but it was Theron instead. “Yeah?” Pierce greeted unhelpfully, catching the startled look on Theron's face before he managed to hide it. 

“She's making you answer her calls?” Theron's voice sounded odd, slightly wary under the usual cheeriness, and Pierce smiled widely at him, shrugging his shoulders. 

“She says it's her vacation. So you'll have to talk to me. Something you need, spy boy?”

“Um.. I was just hoping to talk to her, see how things are going. You know. It's not a catastrophe or anything like that.” 

“I'll let her know that you called, then, if there's nothing else.” Relishing the new role as gatekeeper, Pierce deactivated the holo abruptly, watching Theron's image wink out instantly. Selirah emerged from the 'fresher, giving him an inquisitive look as she sat on the bed, her towel loosely tucked around her torso under her arms and a small container of oil in her hands. “That was Theron, by the way.”

“I'm sure. Did he say anything interesting?” she inquired, opening the oil and setting it on the bedside table. The towel came off, and Pierce carefully averted his gaze, provoking a laugh from his lord. “You're going to have to look, because I'll miss a spot otherwise. Come make yourself useful.” She pointed at the oil and laid down on her stomach, head turned to one side and her lekku laying down her back, the crimson skin still damp. 

Pierce came over to the bed, gazing down at her. He knew she could sense his emotions, and that there was very little point in pretending to not be appreciating the view, so he didn't bother to try. Settling down on the edge of the bed, he picked up the container of oil, the exotic, sweet smell of kibo flower carrying to his nose. Pouring some oil into his palm, he rubbed his hands together and stroked them over her neck and shoulders, smoothing the oil into her skin with each pass. Belatedly remembering she had asked him a question, he answered, “It was a lot of nothing. Whatever he wanted to say to you, he wasn't willing to say to me. 'Not a catastrophe' was the end result.”

She made a derisive sound in her throat. “I suppose that depends on who is judging.” Her response was flatly stated, but Selirah didn't elaborate, her eyes closed as Pierce slowly massaged the oil into her arms, then over the curve of her lower back and hips. Sighing appreciatively, she stretched catlike under his touch, feet flexing and her calves tightening as he smoothed oil over them, relaxing into a lazy sprawl. His hands moved back up her spine, stroking over the stark black lines of her tattoos, and then gathered more oil before he gathered up her tchun and tchin, oiling them both. The sensation was impossible to describe for anyone who lacked the same sensory organs, but it was more than a little bit sensual to be touched like that, and she wasn't particularly interested in pretending otherwise today. 

“Roll over,” Pierce said finally, his voice sounding slightly hoarse. She drank in the emotion rolling off him, a tolerant smile curving her lips as she obeyed, rolling onto her back, feeling bonelessly comfortable under the sure touch of his hands. This time he started at the bottom, working his way up from her feet, over her ankles with care taken not to hurt the sprain. His hands moved up her thighs, and his eyes flickered towards her face, reading the lazy amusement in her lavender eyes as his fingers moved to her trim stomach, lingering briefly on the circular saber scar on her ribcage. “He did this to you, didn't he?” he asked, unable to prevent the question from escaping him. He knew her lassitude and good mood could be transient. Might as well ask while she was likely to indulge him by answering.

“Mmhm,” Selirah replied sleepily, shifting lightly under his hands but clearly not objecting to his interest in the origin of the scar. “Arcann ran me through with his saber. Pulled me into it, more correctly I suppose. I wouldn't recommend it; the wound would have killed me, if his father hadn't been invested in keeping me alive.”

Pierce's fingers traced the circular scar lightly, feeling the difference in the skin there from the surrounding softer skin. “Should get a tattoo incorporating it,” he mused, adding more oil to his hands as he moved higher, impersonally smoothing it over the curve of her breasts. “It's part of you, now.” There was no way to pretend he wasn't affected by touching her there, or anywhere else for that matter. He wasn't going to try to fool her, and he knew she wasn't unaffected either, not since he'd started this task; her breathing was as uneven as his own, and he could feel her heart beating rapidly under his hand like a trapped bird.

“Maybe we'll go do that tonight. Not quite like getting it done properly on Dromund Kaas or Korriban though,” she said wistfully.

He considered the idea, briefly, but as his hands moved higher, sliding over her upper chest, her neck, smoothing oil down the length of her arms and the slender fingers, he was forced to discard it. “Just too hard to get in and out without you being recognized. You're too distinctive looking. Not sure we could do it without being caught and it's hard to say how Acina or the other Sith would respond.” 

Selirah smiled, a slow, lazy curve of her lips under his regard. “Downside of being Lethan. Everyone notices you, which I enjoy.. until I want to be incognito. Then it's a chore. And I know, the tattoos don't help me blend in either.”

The holo chimed again, and he glanced at her questioningly, but she waved him off, letting him answer it. Setting the oil down, he lifted the holo, activating it. Lana's image flickered into life, and he greeted her with considerably less attitude than he'd given Theron. “M'lord. Can I help you with something?”

“Marvelous. She has you screening her calls. That confirms my suspicions, Selirah,” Lana said curtly, clearly not in the mood to pretend that she didn't know Selirah was in the room. Sighing irritably, she held out a hand for the holo, taking it from Pierce. 

“Hello, Lana. What do you need?”

“Do -not- think to leave me here with them for another week just because they've done something to annoy you. They annoy me daily and yet, here I am,” the adviser pointed out frigidly. “At least have the kindness to send THEM off somewhere instead, and come home. You're far more useful to me than they are.”

“I'm not going to do that, Lana,” Selirah began, and then backtracked, realizing how ambiguous that answer was in response to the other woman's words. “I mean.. leave them with you for another week. I intend to come home as scheduled. You can send anything urgent to me, and I'll answer it. I just don't want to be troubled with anything that isn't critical.”

Lana looked mollified by this reassurance, and she nodded in agreement. “Very well. Things are going well enough today, actually. But..”

“I don't want to talk about it, Lana. Only critical mission needs.”

“Of course. Enjoy your time off, and I'll send you a few updates shortly.” The holo went dark, and Selirah dropped it to the bed. 

“Find me a suitable tattoo artist, Colin. Someone with Sith tattoo experience.”

“Right away, m'lord.”

“Selirah.”

“Sorry, m... Selirah.”

Her laughter followed him from the room as he headed out to make some inquiries.

**Odessen:**

She was shutting him out. 

Normally, this wouldn't have bothered him. She had specifically said she wasn't going to let him use the bond to circumvent her 'no communcation' moratorium, so it wasn't exactly a surprise that she would be mostly closed off to him. But he couldn't reach her at all, even superficially. Arcann knew that she was still present in the bond; that much he could sense, but she was nearly invisible to him, the input from their connection thinned to a mere trickle of vague 'not dead' kind of sensation. Nothing of her feelings, her emotions, nothing of whether she was safe. Nothing at all. 

It was unlikely that she didn't know what had happened, or at least, had some idea of it. He'd known that she would be able to feel what she was feeling if she wanted to, and with stronger emotions, it was almost impossible to hide them from her even if she wasn't actively 'listening' to him at the time. The truth is that in the sober light of day, he wasn't sure if he'd done the right thing at all and suspected Theron had some reservations too. He'd sensed doubt in the other man in the moments before he'd fallen asleep, and thought they were both probably thinking the same thing; that Selirah's reaction could very well be explosive in response to what they'd done together. She was volatile at the best of times, and had displayed some significant possessiveness in the past over both of them. He wasn't sure if it had crossed her mind to really think that Theron would choose to pursue him seriously, even with her gone. And pushing Theron to do exactly that had seemed like a good idea at the time, last night. But now, with her cutting him out completely.. he had to admit, it felt like he had completely miscalculated her reaction. 

Arcann had managed to avoid Theron for most of the day by volunteering his services to Sana-Rae's students and giving lessons all day. He'd seen the other man in passing, from a distance, but they hadn't exchanged a word since they'd gone to the meeting this morning with Lana, Vette, Lyorek, Torian, and the others. Alyxia and Kass were nowhere to be found, but the two Mandalorians rarely attended meetings if they weren't directly involved. Still.. their absence could be notable, and he made a mental note to ask Torian if the bounty hunters had a job or if they were possibly with Selirah instead. It would be an excuse for her silence, if she was doing something with Alyxia and Kass. But there was no real reason to believe that. He'd heard nothing about any operations that would have called for that kind of firepower, and Lana had mentioned that she'd spoken to Seli earlier in the day.

Returning to their room for a quick shower and change of clothing, Arcann came out of the 'fresher to find Theron waiting for him on the couch, booted feet propped up on the table and his hands laced behind his head. “I saw you heading here,” Theron admitted, eyeing him from his vantage point as Arcann pulled out some fresh clothing, starting to change. “I figured this was the only chance I'd have to corner you, since you are clearly trying to stay away from me. If I'd waited for tonight, you'd just wait till I was asleep, or go to sleep before I finished working. So, what's going on? Regretting it already?”

Despite the cheerful tone that Theron almost always had, Arcann could feel the thread of panic underlying his words; the constant expectation of rejection that affected every part of his life. The sarcastic response that he'd been about to make suddenly felt unnecessary and cruel, and the prince suppressed it and his own worry about Selirah's vacancy from their bond, finishing dressing and moving down to the couch to join him. He sank down on the seat next to Theron, leaning his elbow on the backrest. “Were you under the impression that I didn't enjoy myself? Because I thought it was obvious that I did,” he replied lightly, seeing some of the tension leave Theron's hazel eyes at his words. “I was staying away, but not because I was regretting it. I just needed to think about it for a while. But I'm not upset with you, Theron. It's nothing like that.”

Theron's shoulders relaxed slowly, and he even smiled after a moment, the undercurrent of fear Arcann had felt from him dissipating. “I can understand that. It just.. I was worried that you were wishing we hadn't done anything, or that you were sorry about it. Please, don't be. I admit, I don't know what Seli is going to...” He fell silent suddenly, and Arcann could see the fear spike back into his mind as something occurred to him. 

“What's wrong?” Hesitating uncertainly, not sure what he should do, he finally brought his hand down to rest on Theron's shoulder, awkwardly offering what comfort he felt capable of giving.

“You do, though, don't you?” Theron said suddenly, his hazel eyes accusingly fixing on Arcann's pale blue. “You know what she's thinking. You can feel it. Is that what this was about? You withdrew because of her, because she knew. She knew because of you. Did you do all of this just to make her blame me? To make it look like I seduced you?”

“No! I mean.. usually, yes, I would be able to, but I can't. I told you she was shutting me out, but she's -really- shutting me out. I can barely sense her at all, and I don't know what, if anything, she can sense from me. If she's working that hard to keep me out, she may not be able to get anything from me either.” Arcann did his best to sound confident about the last part, but some of his uncertainty must have been evident to Theron, because the other man didn't look reassured nearly as much as he'd hoped he would. “I didn't tell her anything, and I don't know if she felt anything or not.. all I can say is that she's closing me out almost entirely. It's like she's not there at all.” He felt a twinge of guilt about Theron's accusations; they weren't completely off the mark, and he didn't want to admit to that, not right now, when Theron was so obviously feeling off-balance. It really wasn't the time for that particular conversation.

“She knows about last night, Arcann,” Theron said after a long, silent moment. “She definitely knows.”

**Nar Shaddaa:**

Selirah was a whirlwind of activity once they left the floating luxury of her home. They went to the tattooist and Pierce watched as her scar was turned into another artistic design on her skin, a swirling, starlike marking on front and back that blended into the sharp lines of the rest of her tattoos. She refused any bandaging, opting instead for a coating of kolto and a shot of kolto as a booster, directing the taxi to Club Vertica over Pierce's objections. After two hours on the dance floor, half of it spent dancing with any stranger that she took a fancy to and more drinks than he could even keep up with, he was sure she'd be willing to go home. Her sprained ankle couldn't feel good at this point, even with the kolto injection and alcohol dulling her pain. 

But instead, she dragged him to another club, and then a party on a Hutt's floating pleasure barge that she'd heard about at the -last- club. By this point, Pierce was sure she was running solely on a drunken bender and the anger from whatever had provoked this hedonistic, party-hopping evening. Nothing else could possibly be keeping her going. It was nearly dawn, and he was starting to think he'd have to call in Broonmark to spell him on protection detail when she appeared back in front of him, an empty drink dangling from her fingers and a familiar heat in her eyes. “Take me home, Colin,” she told him imperiously, flipping the empty glass over her shoulder with a careless flick of the wrist. 

He laughed, hearing it shatter behind her on the floor as he led her to the taxi platform, directing it back to her home. “Broken enough hearts for tonight, have you? I thought that last fellow was going to follow us into the taxi.”

She eyed him challengingly, a predatory smile curving her lips. “Maybe I can manage to break just one more, hmm? Unless you're too tired...” Pierce pinned her against the seat, his dark brown eyes meeting her lavender gaze, his fingers roughly tracing the edges of her fresh, star shaped tattoo, making her draw in a sharp gasp of mingled pain and pleasure in response.

“If I'm not dead, I'm not too tired for you, m'lord.” 

“Selirah,” she corrected with a laugh as he swung her out of the taxi, carrying her towards her bedroom as if she weighed nothing to him.

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I could have actually kept going on this, and I almost did, but then I realized it was getting sort of long. ;)


	35. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Pierce have a semi-constructive talk, which turns into more than talking. Meanwhile, on Odessen, Theron and Arcann have a very constructive talk, which... also turns into more than talking. 
> 
> Look, it's smut. The whole thing pretty much.

**Nar Shaddaa:**

The room was blessedly dark when Selirah opened her eyes. Someone had changed the opacity on the floor to ceiling windows to protect her from the bright light of day, she realized, then realized it was likely the same someone whose rumbling breathing she could hear next to her in the bed. Squeezing her eyes closed again, she counted slowly to ten in her mind, some foolish part of her hoping that when she opened them again, she would be alone in her room and there'd be no large, obvious proof sleeping in her bed showing that she'd gotten sloppy drunk and slept with Colin. 

One amethyst eye cracked open, taking careful stock of the other side of the bed. No luck. He was still there. “Well, fuck,” she said conversationally at enough volume to reach his ears, and watched Pierce wake, his brown eyes disgustingly alert almost instantly. He regarded her with the careful gaze of someone who had served around various Sith for almost all of his life, wise enough to assess what kind of mood she was in before he said anything that could risk getting him choked or worse.

“You know I am the soul of discretion, m'lord. No one will hear anything from me.” With this hasty reassurance, Selirah was pretty sure that the look on her face wasn't a particularly affectionate one, and she tried to soften it, but her head hurt so much and now that she was remembering exactly what happened last night, her scowl only deepened, making Pierce look increasingly nervous. Judging from the sheer number of bruises and bite marks and nail scratches that she could see on him, and the bruises she could feel on her own body when she moved, she hadn't only done it once, but... “About any of last night,” Pierce added, when she still looked anything but pleased.

“It's not you,” Selirah managed finally, her voice a little hoarse and her throat sore. Better not to examine too closely how -that- had happened. “I just.. it's a bit of a black hole, most of last night. And this probably shouldn't have happened at all. But I'm absolutely aware that it was me who instigated it. More than once?”

Despite the lingering concern that she was going to take some of this out on him, Pierce couldn't resist puffing up just a little bit as he clarified, “Three times, m'lord.”

She sighed audibly and pulled the covers up over her head. “Three times. Right. Well, I commend your fortitude, Colin.” Selirah heard him laugh, that masculine, self-satisfied chuckle of a man who is quite proud of his performance. Squeezing her eyes shut again, she bit back another sigh, her mind rapidly considering her options for dealing with this situation as discreetly as possible. Shifting over onto her side, she lifted the covers slightly, observing the view from underneath with idle apprecation. “Have you ever wanted promotion? You spend most of your time just guarding me. You could be commanding troops, running missions. I could make that happen, if you wanted it. I have always appreciated you and your skills, and I would not have it said that I don't recognize your military abilities.” 

There wasn't much to look at with her underneath the covers, so Pierce stretched out comfortably on his back, gazing up at the ceiling in the darkened room. “No offense, but there's only one promotion over guarding an Empress that is worth having, and it's this one,” he replied, patting the bed with one hand pointedly so she would get his meaning, since she wasn't giving him any eye contact at the moment. “It's always been more of a challenge working with you than it was doing black ops. It'd be a step backwards to do anything else now.” He inhaled sharply when her hand brushed over his thigh, trying to hold onto the rapidly dissolving train of thought. “I appreciate the offer. But I'm content protecting you.”

“Who could have known that being Empress would be such a tiresome cage to live in. Everyone wants peace. A cessation of hostilities, of war. But what is there for someone like me in a world like that? What is there for someone like you in a world like that? We are creatures of war, you and I.” Her tone was idle, but Pierce could tell that Selirah was serious, and so he took it seriously, despite the incredibly distracting things she was doing under the covers with her hands, and her mouth too. A wet flick of the tongue was followed by the observation, “Peace is a lie; there is only passion. No wonder I feel like I'm slowly drowning in boredom and dying under the weight of everyone's expectations of me. Peace, domesticity, treaties, negotiations. I'm not a negotiator. I'm a warrior. And without battle.. everything stagnates.” 

Pierce's back bowed as her teeth dragged slowly along his length, the threat of her teeth almost as enticing as the promise of lips and tongue. “You and I both. The quiet times are only bearable when there's action on the horizon,” he managed, his voice curt, breathless. She pushed the covers back, down to his knees, letting him watch her teasing him to painful erection, while never quite giving him all of what his body was clamoring for. Looking down at her, he met her eyes, his gaze focusing on hers, seeing the brilliant, gold-shot ring that now showed around the lavender irises, changing the look of her eyes and making them more feral, dangerous. “Peace is like death for someone like you.”

“The worst kind of death,” she agreed, her mouth touching the thick band of muscle around his midsection, just above his hip. The sweetness of a kiss was followed immediately by her teeth, sinking into his flesh hard enough to draw blood. Pierce flinched, shivering under her attention, and Selirah smiled, her lips brushing his cock, clearly enjoying the slightly wary look in his eyes at having those capricious teeth so near to something he valued quite a bit more than his waist. “It's dulling me, like using a blade to hack down trees instead of keeping the edge. This is not what I was made to do.” She paused, looking down at him as she moved to straddle his thighs, hips sliding forward to glide over his cock teasingly, hearing him suck in a quick breath of pleasure. “Well.. not -this-... I rather enjoy this. No expectations, no demands, no emotional needs to restrain me. I have always greatly appreciated your steadfast loyalty, Colin. Among your other useful skills.” 

He slid his hands up her thighs to her waist, sitting up under her. He lifted her easily, watching her face as he brought her back down over his cock, slowly sheathing it inside her tight, hot core. The expression of pleasure in her eyes, her parted lips, the breathless whimper of desire that escaped her throat; all of it drove him crazy with lust. She was right.. he didn't need her to love him. Pierce understood what she was, probably better than anyone around her other than her fellow Sith. That he was more than a little in love with her was to be expected, but not likely to ever be reciprocated. He had no aspirations to anything beyond this.

He tightened his hands on her hips, guiding her into a slow, lazy rhythm over him, his fingers moving from her hips to her back, and higher, stroking the length of her sensitive lekku. She shuddered in pleasure over him, her head falling back, and he let his hands drop to the curve of her lower back, supporting her weight as he rolled her over onto the bed. Pierce slid his hand under one of her knees, bringing it up as he drove into her from above, his hips tireless. She twined the other leg around his hips, urging him on, her nails biting into his back. His eyes stayed on her face, seeing with satisfaction the exact moment that her climax hit her, watching her body bow under his, her hips grinding up against his, driving him deeper and prolonging her own pleasure, but he made no effort to find his own release as of yet. 

Instead, he pulled himself out of her, lifting her while she was still lost in the ecstasy throbbing through her body, settling her onto her hands and knees on the bed. Her arms trembled, but held, and he slid into her roughly from behind, making her shudder at the sudden fullness, her knees bracing apart. Curving a hand around her hip, he pulled her back onto him, taking a hard, irregularly staggered rhythm with his thrusts, keeping her close against him. With ironclad control, Pierce wrung another two shivering, deliciously pleasurable orgasms out of her before finally giving in to his own, holding her tightly around the hips, his body sealed to hers as he spilled inside her with a shout of release.

When she could put together a coherent sentence again, Selirah glanced over at Pierce, asking curiously, “Aren't you worried about what will happen if they find out about this? Theron and Arcann?” 

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly in response. “No. They're your problem, not mine,” he answered mildly. “Do I need to worry about them? Telling them is your decision to make. It has nothing to do with me.”

“No, you're correct.” She rolled onto her side, propping her head up on her fist. “You are not theirs to discipline. It would be a very serious mistake to think otherwise. Their issue is with me; I will not tolerate them trying to take it out on you.”

“I think they are all expecting you to come back from this trip mellowed out,” Pierce observed with some amusement. “They're in for a bit of a surprise.”

“I won't deny that I always feel torn between who the Alliance wants me to be and who I think I should actually be. Who Theron wants me to be, and who Arcann wants me to be. I am trying to be the person that they want me to be, but this is who I have always been. It's simply that no one wants to believe it.”

“Who you are is fine with me,” Pierce stated loyally, provoking a small smile from Selirah.

“Then at least I will still have you and Broonmark.”

“Until death, m'lord.”

**Odessen:**

Spending the evening talking in the darkened room had resulted in no consensus between Theron and Arcann on the proper course of action to take. Selirah had been firm about her refusal to be contacted, and with Major Pierce answering her holo and their bond blocked, there weren't a lot of options left open. Trying to find her was nearly impossible without some idea of where to start looking. Once Arcann had gone to sleep, Theron had searched the Holonet, trying to find any kind of hint, any sighting, any rumors about her.

When he finally fell asleep himself, he'd still been unsuccessful, and the contacts that he had searching hadn't turned up anything. But early in the morning, an alert came through, the chiming awakening him with a start. Tapping it hastily, Theron cast a glance over at Arcann, but the prince was still asleep, stretched out on his stomach. 

_To: T-  
From: L-_

_Found your lost item. Not possible to acquire within my budget, though. Next time you are in my area, let's get a drink at Club Vertica._

He shook Arcann's shoulder gently, waiting for him to wake up fully before he said anything. Arcann rolled over onto his back, blinking a few times before he focused on Theron's face. “One of my contacts has seen Seli. She's on Nar Shaddaa.”

Rubbing his eyes, the prince sat up, the sheet sliding down to pool in his lap with the movement. “You're sure?” he asked, looking much more alert as he processed the information.

“Definitely. My contact is flighty, but reliable. She says that she saw her at Club Vertica, or at least, one of her contacts did and she verified it, but either way, I'm sure. Let's go.” Theron was halfway out of the bed before Arcann reacted, but he reached out, taking Theron's arm and pulling him back gently. 

“No, Theron, that's not a good idea. Let's assume she doesn't know. In that case, dropping in on her when she wanted time to herself is not going to make her happy at all. And assuming she -does- know, then dropping in on her when she's still pissed off is also not going to make her happy with us. We can't just go there and invade her privacy, and even if we did go there, how are we supposed to find her? She was at a club, but that doesn't mean she'll go there again. By the time we find her, she could be on her way back here. There's only a few days left,” he said reasonably, looking into Theron's face as the other man settled back on the bed, his legs folded under himself. 

“You don't know that she wouldn't want to see us, Arcann,” Theron argued, but it was half-hearted, and he sighed a moment later, laying back on the bed. “Okay, so we don't go, we stay here. Abide by her newest arbitrary way of keeping us in our place. What good is that going to do either of us?”

“I don't know. But pushing is only going to make her feel cornered, and in my experience, cornering her leads to her plowing right over you, and I'm not willing to be in that position anymore. I know what I'm willing to live with. Hopefully you do too, Theron.” Arcann shrugged calmly, looking down at Theron from his vantage point. 

“Maybe. But it wasn't easy to make the decision to live with her refusal to give you up. Regardless of my own … complicated views of you, I didn't want our relationship to change. But she's been restless lately, moody. I know she's had a lot of dreams that have troubled her lately. Something is eating at her, and she hasn't shared it with me.” Theron reached out, idly twitching the folds of sheets down a few inches further from where they lay in Arcann's lap, his hazel eyes warming noticeably in interest. “Has she shared it with you?”

“No. I told you it doesn't work that way, Theron. She can keep things from me. I can't just see everything. If she doesn't want me to know, I have to get lucky and catch a stray image, an emotion, a dream, or she has to show it to me openly, which she is not likely to do.” He glanced downwards, watching Theron's fingers trace over his hip, and then moved suddenly, pinning Theron down, his hands on the other man's wrists, pulling them up over his head as he looked down at him. The startled and excited gleam in Theron's eyes was impetus enough to continue, but he asked anyway, “You want it badly enough to risk it again, hmm?”

“We're both in trouble already, most likely,” Theron responded, tugging ineffectually at Arcann's grip on his wrists. The prince smiled down at him, clearly amused by the attempt, but didn't release him. Instead, he slid a knee between Theron's legs, pushing them apart and settling between them. “And yes. I want it.”

Arcann regarded him for a moment, and it was clear that the prince was turning something over in his mind, making a decision. “Then we will both be in trouble together,” he said finally. “I'm not going to give her an excuse to only blame you this time.” He released Theron's wrists, his hand moving to curve lightly against his cheek, thumb sliding under the line of Theron's chin, tilting his head upwards slightly. “United front, you and I.” He felt the indrawn breath of surprise that escaped Theron when their lips met, but the shocked reaction lasted only a moment, and then he was pulling Arcann down against him, his hands eager. 

Resting his cybernetic hand on the bed for balance, Arcann brought his right hand up between their bodies, his fingers sliding into Theron's shorts, pulling them down over his hips, moving back enough to tug them off entirely and cast them aside. He looked down at him, his hand smoothing slowly over Theron's chest and belly, watching him draw in another breath, his muscles flexing under his fingers. Hazel eyes darkened in anticipation, and Theron lifted his hips slightly off the bed, trying to entice the prince to touch him, but Arcann merely watched him with that faint smile on his face.

“Do you want something, Theron?” he asked, his deep voice bearing a thread of playfulness in it. He bent to kiss him again, a long, deep, possessive kiss that made Theron feel like he was being devoured and sent shivers of desire through him when the prince finally pulled back to look down at him again. “Ask for what you want, and maybe I'll give it to you.”

It was impossibly arousing to some part of him, he realized, to be so little in control of what happened. He knew Arcann could stop at any time, and that the prince wanted him to realize that too. He wanted to hear Theron ask for his touch because that was exciting to him. “I want you to touch me.”

Arcann's smile widened a little, and he slid his fingers across Theron's stomach slowly, from hip to hip, while carefully avoiding touching his straining cock at all. He caressed him lazily, hand moving down over Theron's hip, and thighs, fingers biting lightly into the inside of his thighs, making him gasp aloud. “I am touching you. Is this what you want?”

“Yessss.. no... I want it, but I want more. I want you to touch my cock,” Theron managed, his cheek reddening with a helpless blush of heat, but the request got him rewarded by the warm pressure of the prince's hand closing around him, squeezing lightly, slowly stroking. “Kriff, yes.. more.” Arcann's pale blue eyes watched him, his hand sure and firm, bringing Theron closer and closer to the edge before suddenly stopping. He smiled at the frustrated sound he made, at the desperate arching of Theron's hips under him. “Please.”

He waited, amusing himself by kissing Theron but otherwise not touching him, waiting for his breathing to slow back to nearly normal before touching him again. Then he roused him up again, watching his eyes widen, his breathing growing shorter, more ragged. His hips arched, thrusting his cock up into Arcann's hand, the hazel eyes pleading with him to keep going. But he let go again, seconds before Theron reached the pinnacle of his pleasure, and watched him quiver, frustration choking off the possibility of orgasm. Pulling away, he took the bottle of lube from the table next to the bed, handing it to Theron.

Theron watched him through a fog of desperation, his brain refusing to engage enough to even tell him what to do with the bottle in his hands as Arcann stripped off his shorts, moving to kneel between his legs, lifting his knees until they were both bent and slightly spread around him. The prince took the bottle back, taking Theron's hand and flattening it, dripping a small puddle of the silky liquid into it. “Last chance, Theron,” he said quietly, one finger tracing through the puddle on Theron's palm, then reaching down to stroke it on Theron's skin, not quite penetrating him, his icy gaze fixed on the other man's face. “Tell me what you want.”

Theron closed his hand, feeling the lube spread across his palm, his fingers; then he reached out and stroked his hand over Arcann's cock, smoothing the slippery fluid over his skin as he felt the prince's shaft thicken at his touch. “I want you to fuck me,” he said with only a slight tremor in his voice, anticipation making his breathing catch in his throat. If only he'd known all this time that all he had to do was ask for what he wanted. The thought made him smile, and then he bit his lip sharply, muffling a gasp as Arcann gave him what he'd asked for in a series of slow, surprisingly gentle thrusts aided by his hands holding Theron's legs apart and up, easing his passage. 

Eyes closed, Theron shuddered in pleasure, the brief discomfort of adjustment failing to overcome the sensation of fullness and friction sending a small shiver down his spine. Arcann leaned forward over him, balancing on knees and his left hand, his right going between their bodies to take hold of Theron's cock. Still clearly in control of the situation, the prince flexed his hips, driving into Theron firmly as he slid his hand over him, giving him a stroke in rhythm with every two or three thrusts of his hips, keeping the already-aroused Theron from getting to his orgasm too quickly. Theron didn't even realize what he was doing until he was too caught up in the pleasure to care, and then there was nothing but the sudden, blinding release that he'd been built up to again and again. When it finally hit, it bowed his spine painfully, and Arcann's mouth on his muffled his cries, his hips driving into Theron's, losing the rhythm as his own climax hit him. 

Breathless and swept with a pleasant exhaustion in the wake, Theron considered what Arcann had said earlier, realizing that he'd essentially confessed to manipulating the situation the last time they'd been together. But he'd also just made sure that Theron couldn't be blamed for seducing him; not after this. Whatever happened, they'd be in it together now. Sprawling comfortably with the prince, he relaxed against him as Arcann carefully withdrew, slumping down to lie next to Theron, his eyes closed. 

She'd be home in two days, and they'd deal with whatever fallout was coming then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah idk. I'm not sorry. ;)


	36. Watch Your Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah's slightly early return home is marred by a surprise greeting in the docking bay.

**Nar Shaddaa:**

Selirah was gone for much of the next day, with Broonmark accompanying her as she visited a number of shops and bought gifts for Vette, Lana, Theron, and Arcann, lingering in a rare manuscript seller's shop for some time before selecting a few for Nox and Lyorek. It was early evening when she returned home, with the Talz laden down with packages. Directing him to the bedroom to deposit the bags and boxes, she made her way to the large lounge room on the lower floor and stretched out on one of the couches, closing her eyes and relaxing.

“Brought you some caf.” Selirah opened one eye at the sound of his voice to glance upwards at Pierce as he set a steaming cup on the table beside her. “Want me to pack all your prizes up for delivery to the Fury?”

“Later. You can sit.. you're not interrupting anything,” she invited, patting the couch. He joined her, settling on the other end of the couch while she shifted to leaning against the arm of the fabric-draped seat, picking up the cup and sipping it appreciatively. “There's a present in there for you. Thought you'd like a few of the newest guns, and I got a crate of detonators too.”

“You know just what to get a fellow.” Pierce gave her a grin, relaxing comfortably against the couch and gazing out the windows. The skyline was bright with Nar Shaddaa's flashing, neon signs, myriad ships sailing past in the lanes. 

“Can I ask you something, Colin?” Selirah regarded him over the edge of her caf cup, her expression studiously empty, even of curiosity. She waited for his nod, and then continued, “Do you think that I was too harsh on Quinn, all those years ago? I know you never liked him, but.. putting that aside, do you think I was unfair?”

Pierce looked faintly surprised, but he actually paused and gave the question some thought, instead of just making a snarky, cutting remark. “Truthfully, m'lord, back then I never understood why you didn't kill him where he stood that day. But now.. I think I understand it better. I don't think that you were unfair to Quinn. I think he killed something in you, though.”

She took another drink, still giving him nothing to read in her face, her eyes fixed now on the flashing lights outside in the distance. “You think he damaged me with his betrayal.” It wasn't really a question, and Pierce didn't respond, watching her to see if she'd continue. “Why do you believe that?”

Treading cautiously, he replied, “I think you feel uncomfortable with some situations now. You withdraw from anything that feels too permanent, or too serious. Don't get me wrong, m'lord.. I have no complaints about anything, for my part.” Adding this reassurance rapidly, Pierce shrugged, folding his arms across his chest, stretching his legs out in front of him, booted feet crossed in an idle gesture. “But I also know that you don't love me. Whatever's going on right now, you're trying to build a demilitarized zone around yourself again, like you did then. Can I ask -you- something, m'lord?”

“You can ask.” Her gold-rimmed amethyst eyes moved towards him again, her head turning slowly to gaze at him. The look wasn't -quite- a threat, yet.. Pierce knew those looks well from his years with her. But he understood the warning for what it was, and spoke with care.

“Why didn't you divorce Quinn? You left him, you made it clear that he was no longer a part of your life. But you never made it official.”

The empty cup contacted with the table a little sharply, the sound as abrupt as the way Selirah surged to her feet. The Twi'lek moved away, crossing the room to stand near the vast bank of windows. Pierce began to worry that he'd overstepped as the minutes stretched out, but she finally spoke. “I think it started as a way to remind myself not to make the same mistake again.”

“And now? There's no reason to stay married to him now. He could be dead, or could have remarried after you were declared dead by the Empire originally.. who knows? His betrayal is in the past, and there's nothing to remind yourself of now, not when you have people around you who would never betray you.”

She glanced back at him over one shoulder, slender lekku twitching nervously. He always wondered if he was missing some part of the conversation when that happened; if she was saying something that he lacked the ability to translate. But her audible response was stark and unambiguous in its clarity. “I have double the reason to remember not to assume someone loves me too much to be turned against me, Colin.”

“Pushing them to see if they'll turn on you.. -that- is unfair, m'lord. Maybe you should consider putting that divorce through. It's past time. Whatever happened to Quinn in the years since you disappeared, he's had plenty of opportunity to come to you since. Maybe it's time to put all of that behind you.”

Her jaw tightened visibly, but she only replied, “Maybe. Have 2V run pre-flight checks and prepare the ship, and make sure everything is loaded. I want to be off this rock within the hour.”

“Lay in a course for Odessen into the nav?” Pierce asked as he got to his feet, hesitating before he headed out to take care of her orders.

“Yes. I want to go home.”

**Mezenti Spaceport:**

Something nagged at the edges of her senses as Selirah walked through the spaceport. She checked the fastenings on her gauntlets, tightening them uneasily. Her senses extended outwards, probing around herself, through the crowded spaceport, but she felt the usual fear and unease from onlookers, nothing out of the ordinary for the sight of an armored Sith trailed by a hulking soldier. Broonmark was near, but as he often did in crowded areas, the Talz had chosen to activate his stealth generator, skulking silently in the wake left behind her.

Stepping into the lift, she waited for the touch of Broonmark's claw on her shoulder before activating it. Selirah shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and Pierce glanced at her, frowning. “Something wrong, m'lord?”

“I'm not sure. Something feels... “ She made a sharp gesture with one hand, clearly frustrated. “Something feels off.”

Pierce hefted his blaster rifle, stepping slightly in front of her to face the doors of the lift. “That's all I need to hear. Might be nothing. Better careful than dead, though,” he said pragmatically. He heard her loosen her saber hilt, and he felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that had always precipitated any possible battle over the years. Could be nothing out there, but if she felt funny, he knew better than to question it. 

With her connection to the force open, she felt something outside the doors as they approached the docking bay. Hostility, multiple sources. “Be ready,” she warned. She could feel Arcann, distantly, and she welcomed the rush of sensation from him, his relief and affection. He could feel her wariness and anticipation as well, and felt him touching her mind, finding the rush of preparation for battle.

The door opened to blaster fire. Deep in the current of the force, Selirah saw each bolt as if it was being fired in slow motion, and as she came out of the lift behind Pierce, she ignited her saber, the purple blade flashing into a deflection pattern, batting away any bolt that came her way. Five assailants here; her eyes took in details of their armor, colors, style, assessing them as mercenaries. Not nearly as well armored as a Mandalorian, thankfully; their own bolts pierced their armor perfectly well when she returned them. Redirecting two bolts upwards with a slight shift of the angle of her saber, Selirah put out two of the large overhead lights in the cavernous space of the bay, darkening the area considerably. Her dark armor made her harder to target in the poorly lit space, and she moved with force-augmented speed towards her ship, following Pierce. Howls of pain and surprise came from behind her, as Broonmark bloodied his claws in their enemies. She could feel the mercenaries' fear and agony, and she drank it in, sinking further into the force, knowing this would result in utter exhaustion later. But the advantage that it gave her now was immense, and she didn't dare risk letting them prevent her from taking off in the Fury. 

A barrage of blaster fire came from the left of the Fury and drew her attention as she approached the ramp in a blur of motion. She threw up a hand, a faint power barrier absorbing the worst of the attack, but she still saw Pierce curse as he was hit by a stray bolt that got past her. Broonmark, rushing towards her position, called a warning in Talzzi, and she started to turn, but Selirah felt something strike her in the space between her neck and shoulder, just above her armor. She swatted at the pinprick of pain, feeling a dart fall away from her skin when she hit it. Her barrier flickered and then vanished, and she stumbled, her grip on the force weakening. A burning feeling spread from the small wound, and she struggled back to her feet, forcing herself upright as a blaster bolt ripped into her side from the opposite direction, making her stagger in pain. 

A second dart sped towards her, but she batted it from the air with her saber blade, fury pushing back the effects of whatever she'd been struck with. A red-haired woman in spacer gear stood near a pile of crates, where she'd clearly been hiding and waiting for a good shot with her view of the ramp. Selirah's gaze met the other woman's bright green eyes, and she saw the anticipation in her mind, the thought that the Sith would go down soon, and could be easily taken. For a moment, she saw something else in an unguarded thought.. regret, that someone would be upset, but she couldn't concentrate enough to feel any more before she lost the brief contact.

Stirred to rage, she drew the force violently into herself, forcing it outwards in an invisible wave of power that spread out from her body, rocking the Fury on its landing struts and flinging the attackers back with incredible might. Several of the mercenaries contacted with walls or sharp metal crates with enough impact to crush them, falling bonelessly to the ground like broken children's dolls, blood spilling from wounds. The red-haired spacer was luckier, sprawling backwards over twenty uncluttered feet to slide into a wall in slow motion. Selirah could see her shaking her head, getting to her feet with a determination that she felt reluctant admiration for, lifting her dart gun shakily. Backing up the ramp as Broonmark joined her, Selirah turned away as the ramp closed behind her. She didn't feel the last dart at all when it hit her behind the knee, but she stumbled again as she moved down the hall towards the bridge as force exhaustion set in with a vengeance.

Her mind was swimming in fire by the time she made it to the bridge, and she leaned against the back of the captain's chair as Pierce piloted the Fury out of the docking bay. He glanced over his shoulder at her as they lifted into the atmosphere, frowning a little at her obvious wooziness. “M'lord, you're injured.”

“So are you,” she retorted, but her words came out a little slurred, and she felt her legs start to give out with a sense of astonishment at the sudden weakness. “I think something is wrong.” Her body felt weak, wracked with shivers and pain, and she gasped, starting to fall.

Pierce surged up out of the pilot's seat and caught her before she hit the floor, calling for 2V. The droid hastened into the bridge, taking in Selirah's nearly unconscious form with a startled, “Oh my! Let me get us underway at once while you get Master to the medbay!” as he hustled past them both to take the controls, guiding the ship off the planet. Carrying her limp form to the medbay, Pierce laid her on the bed, scanning her hastily. The blaster bolt had done considerable damage to her side, ripping through her armor and into flesh and bone, but it didn't explain her weakness and the near torpor she was sinking rapidly into. 

“Shot me, dart, neck,” she managed, and Pierce rolled her gently to the side, checking her neck. The puncture wound was hard to see against her crimson skin, but a runnel of blood led him to the right spot. Checking her over carefully, he found the second dart buried behind her knee, held in place by the edge of her high boots. He pulled it out and set it aside for identification as 2V appeared in the doorway. 

“Care for her,” Pierce ordered. “She took a blaster to the side and two darts, one in the right side of her neck and one behind the right knee. I'm not sure what was on them, but I think that's what's affecting her. Might be just a sedative, but in case it's not, be thorough, 2V.” 

“Of course,” 2V responded, managing to sound slightly insulted at the idea that he would be anything less than thorough in his work. As Pierce started to leave the room to contact Lana, Selirah screamed behind him, a piercing, agonized sound. He spun to see her convulsing on the bed, 2V struggling to restrain her. Flinging himself on her, he helped hold her down as 2V tried to administer a sedative, her body bucking and twisting with more strength than he'd ever realized she had in her. She screamed again, this time in anger, and flung him off her to the floor, but the sedative won out, and by the time Pierce was back on his feet, she was unconscious.

**Odessen:**

“Stop looking at it like a spy, and start looking at it tactically, Theron!” Slight raised voice aside, Arcann had a faint amused grin on his lips, and he shoved Theron's shoulder lightly with one hand, receiving an immediate return shove back from the other man. 

“I -am- looking at it tactically. My tactics just aren't always 'blast down the door and cut everyone into little laser-sword pieces',” Theron responded mockingly. Arcann rolled his eyes theatrically, but much to Lana and Vette's surprise, they both seemed to be in good humor, and only teasing, because there was no anger, and no arguments. Instead, they eventually decided on an approach to the problem that incorporated both of their ideas, and then started debating the merits of expanding the base housing for families and more personnel. 

It was astonishing to watch. Ever since the day they'd both tried their best to beat the stuffing out of each other, they'd been getting along as if they'd always been friends. “Men,” Vette said conspiratorially, elbowing Lana in the side with a sly smile in response to the adviser's dour glare. “Am I right, or am I right?”

“I really wish that you wouldn't elbow me like that, Vette,” Lana replied, but suddenly she dropped the datapad in her hands, putting her hands up over her ears as if she was hearing some piercingly loud noise. Vette couldn't hear anything, but she'd been around enough force users to know that they heard and saw things that normal people didn't. “What the...”

Across the room, Arcann mirrored the gesture at the same moment, his hands going to his ears as Selirah's scream suddenly hit him through the bond like a reverberating psychic blow to the head. Theron glanced between the two of them, his eyes widening in concern, and then he suddenly had his arms full as Arcann collapsed with a hoarse sound of pain.

“I'm going to hazard a guess that this isn't good news,” Vette said into the sudden silence, gratified when Lana managed to give her another exasperated stare, clearly starting to recover from whatever had just hit her senses and had knocked the prince completely out. “There's a message coming in from Pierce. They were attacked. He says Selirah was hit by darts of some sort. They're on their way here.”

“We'd better get Arcann to the medbay in the meantime. Whatever happened to her, it hit him too.”

In all the upheaval, Theron didn't get a chance to check his messages until later, when he was sitting by Arcann's bed while they all waited for the Fury to land. The first unread message was time stamped not long after Pierce's first message, and he read it several times, cursing under his breath, before hiding it behind a few layers of encryption as a precaution. He'd have to deal with it, but he couldn't spare the time to worry about it now.

_To: T-  
From: L-_

_You should hear it from me first. Someone paid me an obscene amount to grab the item you were asking about before. Couldn't turn it down._

_Nothing personal.. it's just business. You know how it is._


	37. Come Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Arcann spend some time catching up inside her mindscape, and Theron goes in search of his renegade contact, with some unexpected company.

**Manaan (Dreaming):**

Endless water stretched as far as the eye could see, blue and green mingling into the distance as the waves rushed across the surface. The breeze was light today, washing over the deck of the private hover yacht, and Selirah lay comfortably on a hammock strung between the sturdy railings, her lean body clad in briefs and a bandeau top. She knew that she wasn't really here, this time. But she could dimly feel the agony of her pain-wracked body, and had no desire to return to it at all, even if she could have made herself wake. The dream world was better, and it could be anything she wanted; including pain free.

The touch of Arcann's mind, searching for hers, reached her eventually, and she drew him to her without thinking. His footsteps sounded on the deck moments later, and she smiled, looking up at him where his shadow fell across her skin. “You have found me, keella. Come, join me. There's plenty of room.” He slid into the broad hammock beside her, his cybernetic fingers tracing over her belly, following the lines of the new star tattoo over her saber scar lightly. 

“You need to come back with me. I'm sure Theron is frantic with worry about you,” he said finally, his deep voice quiet, bearing a thread of concern that she could feel as if it were tangible. His sky blue eyes met hers, examining the gold ring surrounding both of her irises. “As am I.”

“I don't want to go back. That body is poisoned,” she said calmly, pressing in closer against him to feel his body against hers, her fingers sliding slowly over his ribs and up to his chest, curving against the firm muscle beneath her hand to feel his heart beating rhythmically. “Stay here with me, instead.”

“I'm not leaving you, Seli. How did you know you were poisoned?”

“I do have some experience in what it feels like to be poisoned and dying.” Selirah smiled dryly, gold-flecked eyes moving over his face, her hand moving to cup his cheek, stroking the pads of her fingers over his scars. “You might recall a botched carbonite job? Unfortunately, I don't have your father to keep me alive this time.”

“You're not angry with me? With Theron?” he asked uncertainly, and she laughed, bringing one knee up, foot resting on the fabric of the hammock as it swung lazily, bathed by the sun and the sea breezes.

“Hardly seems like it's the right time to worry about that, keella. Look on the bright side. If I die, you won't have to worry about dealing with me being angry at you or Theron.” She shrugged, laying back, eyes closing to give the appearance of enjoying the warmth of the Manaan sun on her skin. She felt cold, but she knew that was her real body, not this one. And there was no reason to distress Arcann with it; he'd just want to go back and try to help, and selfishly, she wanted him to stay here with her.

“Don't say that. You're not going to die. You've been through a hundred situations where you should have died, and you've survived every single one. That's not going to change now,” Arcann replied stubbornly. 

“I would have died in carbonite if I hadn't been kept alive by power that I no longer have living inside me, keella. That is just the simple truth. Now, I'd rather not worry about all of that anymore. Let's talk about something different.” Selirah rolled onto her side, resting her head on Arcann's shoulder and wrapping one arm around his waist. “Tell me what happened while I was gone. You and Theron got into a fight.. what sparked that?”

“You'd probably just say we were both being stupid.”

“Oh, I'm -sure- that I would. But tell me anyway. I want to hear every word.”

**Odessen Medbay:**

The medics bustled around the room, pushing Lana, Vette, Theron, and Senya back by virtue of making a perpetual motion wall that they couldn't penetrate without getting in the way of their efforts to keep Selirah alive. She lay motionless and pale while they worked, occasionally convulsing despite their efforts to suppress the seizures that manifested every time her fever spiked. Arcann lay on the other bed, his head turned towards Selirah's bed as if he knew she was there, but the doctors had already told Lana that nothing was preventing him from waking up. There was nothing to be done for the prince but to wait for him to awaken on his own.

“I don't think he will,” Theron said, his hazel eyes flickering between the two still forms unhappily. He hated the medbay, even when it wasn't him in here due to some personal misadventure or screw up. 

“Will what?” Vette asked. She was parked by the doorway, leaning against the wall and eating some kind of flaky pastry thing. Nothing ever seemed to kill her appetite, but Theron privately thought that she ate to keep from pacing or stressing out the way the rest of them did. It was just her own way of dealing with situations that she couldn't control.

“Wake up on his own. He's probably with Seli,” Theron clarified. “Lana or Senya might be able to explain it better than I could.. all I have is what Arcann's told me, but.. he said once to me that they can share dreams sometimes. If she's.. unconscious, but basically asleep, and he's asleep, they're probably together. He won't leave her alone while she's sick like this.”

Senya frowned, pointing out flatly, “He can't just stay unconscious. There's nothing about that idea that sounds sensible or safe for him.”

Theron shrugged, glancing at Lana, who spoke up after a moment more of watching the medics trying to keep Selirah's vital signs stable. “Senya, when has your son ever been sensible, -or- all about the safe option? I don't disagree with you that we may need to try to force him to wake up at some point for his own good. But for now, it's best to see if he will wake on his own, and in the meantime, to let him be and let the medics do their job. We have work to do, and we are just getting in the way here.” She cast a compassionate look at Theron, her yellow eyes touching lightly on his face as he nervously paced. “Stay here with them, Theron. Just try to stay out of the medics' way. Let us know if anything changes.”

Theron moved over to a chair near Arcann's bedside, where he could keep a closer eye on both of them. He pulled out his datapad and brought up one of his Holonet accounts, hastily sending a new message with heavier encryption than usual. 

_To: L-  
From: T-_

_We need to meet. I'd rather not have to hunt you down._

When he looked up, one of the medics was approaching, a harried, tired expression on her face. “The Empress is stable, but this poison is resisting our efforts to eradicate it from her system. The stims we have her on now are counteracting many of the effects, but it's mostly just buying us time to figure out another method of treatment, and to give her body a chance to rest.” She rested a hand on Theron's shoulder briefly, patting him sympathetically. “We're doing everything that we can to help her.”

“Thank you for the update. I'll pass it on to the others,” he replied distractedly, hearing the new message alert from his datapad, still held in his hand. “Is it okay for me to sit by her while she rests? I will get out of the way quickly if anything happens. I just don't want her to be alone.”

“Of course. It might help.. it's hard to say what people know or hear when they're unconscious, but I think it never hurts to have someone near them who cares about them,” the medic answered gently, turning away to check Selirah's vitals again before moving into the adjoining room to start to restock their depleted supplies. 

_To: T-  
From: L-_

_Sure. Meet me on Coruscant, then. I don't want to get a vibroblade in the back for my kindness in passing on the information that I gave you._

_To: L-  
From: T-_

_Rishi. And I'm not going to knife you. Or shoot you. I just need to ask you a few questions._

_To: T-  
From: L-_

_Fine, but I'm not going to tell you who paid me. Bad for business._

Theron sighed, tucking the datapad away in his jacket before reaching over to touch Selirah's hand lightly. Her skin was warmer than was even typical for a Twi'lek, but the fever was a bearable one, and being managed. They were controlling the seizures as well, but she was still fighting the effects of the poison as it tore through her body, barely held in check by the medications they were using to contain it.

He didn't want to leave her side, but.. he needed to go to Rishi to meet his contact, and it wasn't a short trip from Odessen. His fingers stroked over Selirah's crimson skin in a slow, idle rhythm, and he watched her breathing, slow and regular, finding it soothing to see it and know she was still there. Hazel eyes moved from her profile to Arcann's face, the prince's gold-brushed lashes resting on his cheeks. Theron wondered if they really were together somewhere in their dreams, and if so, what they were saying to each other; and not for the first time, he felt the sting of envy that he couldn't be with her, share this kind of thing with her, that he was so utterly blind to it all.

But there was nothing for it but to go and hope she woke up after he'd returned. 

He got up slowly, letting go of Selirah's hand, watching her fingers lie on the blanket, slender and fragile looking. All of that strength and power, and here she lay, fighting to survive because of two little darts. How quickly things could change.

Theron headed towards the shuttles, intending to take one of them, but right before he hit the hangar bay door, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. A heavily armed hand. “Where are you going, Theron?” Alyxia asked. For once, the Mandalorian didn't have her helmet on, and he realized this was one of a handful of times he'd actually seen her face. She wasn't exactly beautiful, but she was striking, with moss-green eyes and dark auburn hair cut at jaw-length. A scar marred her face, cutting through the line of one high cheekbone, the mark jagged, and there was always something icy and dangerous about her expression; a lack of warmth or empathy that combined with her unsmiling countenance to make her feel very unapproachable and aloof. “I would have thought you'd be living in the medbay till someone had to hose you off to deal with the stink.”

He froze for a moment, unable to think of a quick response, and the bounty hunter arched a brow coolly at him, clearly reading his hesitation. “I can't really talk about it. I just have to leave to take care of something, and I want to get going so I can get back as soon as possible. Don't want to miss Seli waking up,” he tried, hoping against hope that she would step back and let him go on his way.

“I'm going with you.” She watched his face astutely, and Theron had the sensation that she knew exactly what he was up to, even though that was impossible. “Don't bother coming up with a lie about why you have to go alone. You need protection from yourself more than you do from anything else that wants to kill you. And I've got no interest in telling your business to anyone.” The score-marked, battered helmet dangling from her fingers was tucked under one arm in a smooth gesture, and she palmed the door lock, opening it. “We'll take the Fury. It's a lot quicker than the shuttles.”

Knowing he was thoroughly beaten, Theron sighed and headed out on the walkway towards the Fury. “How does Torian live with you? Dealing with you is like trying to herd a rancor,” he said irritably, but Alyxia only chuckled, clearly not offended by the comparison.

“My riduur values that about me, but he is a wise man and sees the good in a strong woman. Most men aren't.” This surprisingly verbose rejoinder was offered without much malice, but Theron got the unsubtle point that the Mandalorian was making. “You should be a wise man too, by this point. Your darjetii is not a soft woman.”

“I've never been known for living up to my potential, haven't you heard?” Theron answered with a wry laugh. “No reason to start now. We're going to Rishi, by the way.”

“Fine by me. I like beaches.”

**Manaan (Dreaming):**

Selirah lay on her back in the water, floating idly on the ocean's surface. She was pretty sure it wouldn't be this easy to float like this if she was really on Manaan, not to mention that she'd probably end up eaten by some giant hungry fish. 

“Are you still in pain?” Arcann asked, earning a sour, sidelong look from the corners of her eyes that didn't seem to deter him from his curiosity at all. He'd only gotten in the ocean with her under protest, when she'd pointed out that it wasn't really an ocean after all. But he still looked a little uncomfortable with the water surrounding them both, which amused her enough to want to stay here for a while longer.

“Yes, but not as bad as before. I don't want to talk about that.” She kicked both feet and splashed him, laughing at the look on his face as he wiped water away from his eyes. “Why did you sleep with Theron?” This question provoked a new expression from him, one of mild panic that was even more amusing to her than his obvious wish to be back on the boat rather than in the water with whatever creatures inhabited it, even though it was all a figment of her mind.

“Because I wanted to,” Arcann began, but she made a rude noise, interrupting him.

“That's not true, keella. Not really.”

“It's true. It's just not the whole truth,” he responded, stung. “I'm not sure what you expect me to say. I put him on the hook the first time deliberately, and I felt guilty about it. He didn't deserve it, and I only did it to try to push the blame off on his shoulders.”

“It probably would have worked. So why decide to hang yourself along with him?” She drifted lazily on the water, her eyes following Arcann with idle interest.

“I didn't want him to be punished for being himself.” He shrugged, but his eyes moved away from her, looking out over the endless water as he treaded water with easy strength.

“Maybe, and if so, that is good of you to think of what was best for him. Or perhaps you thought that obeying my rule about trying to get along in a creative way would gain you an advantage. Or, maybe you were just attracted to him and wanted to see what it would be like.” Selirah gave him a sly look, gliding nearer in the water and tilting his face back towards hers. “You are clever, keella, and rarely without several reasons for the things you do. That's one of the things that I like about you.” Her lips touched his, kissing him with more tenderness than was typical for her. Arcann drew her closer, pulling her body against his, but she could feel the fear in his thoughts, overriding the pleasure for him. “I love you, Arcann,” she told him softly, her lips a breath away from his, watching the grief and worry darken his pale blue eyes as his arms tightened around her.

“I love you too, Seli, and so does Theron. We need you to get better.”

“I know you do, keella.” She rested her forehead against his, eyes closing. “I'm doing my best to oblige.” A shock of pain went through her suddenly and she stiffened in his arms, biting back a scream. Her body heat spiked, and Arcann shook her gently, trying to get her to open her eyes, calling her name, but she vanished suddenly, and with her, the tranquil oceans and breezes, the boat, everything. He was suddenly alone again inside his own head, and she was gone.

Opening his eyes, Arcann lay still for a moment, adjusting to the abruptness of his ejection from Selirah's mind, feeling the jolt of agony spiraling into him from her. Medics were blocking her from his view, and he could hear her screaming both with his ears and his mind, her pain a nearly tangible force pressing on his thoughts. He got his personal shields back up, blocking out enough of the cacophony that he could sit up, glancing further into the room, enough to realize that the chair he assumed had been Theron's was empty, and only Vette was standing in the doorway, looking pale and scared. She saw him looking at her and hurried over to him, stopping by his bedside.

“She's doing worse, and the medics say the treatment that was keeping her stable is starting to fail, Arcann.”

“I know.. she threw me out of her head a moment ago. I knew something was wrong,” he answered slowly, glancing back at the empty chair. “Vette, where is Theron?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was messing with this one right up till the last second. Sorry to not be answering questions about our mysterious L in this one, but it's coming. :)
> 
> Mando'a words:  
> Riduur - Husband/wife/spouse/partner  
> Darjetii - Sith


	38. We Used To Be Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Alyxia go to Rishi and meet with Theron's contact. Information is exchanged, and more questions arise than are answered.

**The Fury (Near Rishi):**

“Holocall coming in.” Alyxia's featureless, T-visored helmet turned towards Theron with this terse pronouncement, the whole 'face to face' thing having lost its charm for her quickly once they'd left Odessen. She piloted the Sith ship with ease, pushing the limits just enough that Theron knew they were making -very- good time, making him wonder if she was more concerned about the possibility of coming back to the upheaval of a dead Alliance leader than she let on. “Probably not for me.”

Taking the hint, Theron left the bridge, activating the holoprojector in the main body of the ship. It lit up, showing Arcann's furious expression, and Theron took a deep breath, expecting the prince to simply start shouting at him immediately. But instead, the other man's face changed, showing a hint of relief as soon as he saw Theron on the other side. “Where are you? Are you alright? You weren't here when I woke up. Selirah is worse, Theron. You should -be- here.”

“I know. Believe me when I say that I want to be there, but.. this is really important. I will be back as soon as possible, but I have to meet with this contact while I can.” Theron felt a hefty wave of guilt suffuse him at the bewildered look Arcann gave him, but he knew he couldn't turn back now. She would probably already be there on Rishi when he arrived, and if he made her wait too long, it was very likely that she'd leave. “Why are you awake at all? Were you with her? Is she .. I know she's not alright, but.. did she have anything to say?”

“Seli threw me out of her head just before she got worse, probably to protect me as much as she could from the pain. The poison is resisting neutralization, and the medics are trying to prevent it from doing too much damage to her, but she's just getting weaker from fighting it.” He folded his arms across his chest, lips set in a solemn and stubborn expression. “Theron, there's a lot of risk in being gone right now because I don't know what's going to happen. It's serious, how badly she's doing. Whatever this contact has, it can't be worth it to be away from her.” Arcann paused, clearly debating over something, then finally said in a more gentle tone, “She loves you. She said she is trying to get better, for us.”

“I won't be gone for long, Arcann. Thank you for telling me how she's doing.. and if you have the chance to talk to her again, tell her that I love her. Don't distress her by telling her that I'm not there unless you have to. It won't serve any purpose but to make her upset when she needs to be resting and recovering.”

Arcann tapped his fingers on his forearm, his response coming slowly after a moment spent in silence. “I'm not going to lie for you. You should be here. But if she doesn't ask, I'm not going to volunteer it, either. I hope this errand is a very valuable one.”

“I can't be with her the way you can,” Theron said patiently. “All I can do is pace, get in the way, and wait. At least I'm doing something this way, and feeling useful. It doesn't mean that I don't want to be there with her.”

“What aren't you telling me, Theron?”

“We'll talk when I get back. We're going to be dropping out of hyperspace soon.. I need to go, but I'll let you know when I'm headed back to Odessen.”

Arcann's expression looked thunderous, but he made a gesture that Theron chose to interpret as a farewell rather than the 'screw you' that it resembled before signing off. As he headed back to the bridge, he felt the Fury drop out of hyperspace, angling downwards as they headed in towards the lush planet below. Alyxia brought the ship in a little faster than Theron expected, but there was little time to feel concerned about the odds of crashing into the docks before they were coming down lightly under her expert eye. She opened the hatch, stretching her legs before pushing up out of the captain's chair. 

“Know where you are meeting?” she inquired, her voice sounding incurious and even a trifle bored through the helmet's external speaker.

“Yes. You're going to have to stay well away. She can be skittish, and I don't want her to think that I'm here to have her executed, or anything like that. I just need some information from her.”

“Not my first rodeo, Shan,” Alyxia replied. It wasn't entirely reassuring to hear her nonchalant tone when it was ominously combined with her checking to be sure that her carbonite spray was active, and adhering several more explosives to her belt. “She won't even know that I'm there.”

“No offense, but you're hard to overlook.” Theron eyed Alyxia's heavily armored form, bristling with weapons, and shook his head, laughing. “You look like an Imperial dreadnaught in human form.”

“Not an Imperial. They just pay a lot better than your Republic, and get in my way a lot less,” she answered dryly. Stepping off the ship, she fired a jet of flame from a retractable flamethrower set into her forearm, then gestured with amusing politeness for Theron to precede her down the long walkway towards Raider's Cove. 

Heading down the pier, Theron heard the Mandalorian's jetpack activate, and glanced back to see her disappearing into the air in an arc aimed to take her down in the center of town. “Showoff,” he muttered to himself.

The cantina was just about as sleazy and disreputable as you'd expect from a cantina in a pirate town; which is to say that Theron wasn't feeling particularly keen on even sitting on any surfaces inside the building for fear of catching some kind of exotic form of wampa flu. Alyxia had probably arrived a good while before him, but wherever she was, he couldn't catch sight of her as he glanced around the crowded room. 

“Hey there, handsome. Don't you just look like the best looking guy on this whole rock. How about buying a girl a drink, eh? I've just flown in from the Core planets, and I'd do just about anything for a Corellian whiskey. And I do mean -anything-.” The familiar voice in his ear was accompanied by a leather-gloved hand tucked in Theron's elbow as a curvy red-haired spacer leaned against his side invitingly. As usual, Livya wasn't what one would call conservative in any way. Brilliant red hair was caught back in a haphazard knot at the back of her head, pulling it away from a pretty, girl-next-door freckled face set with bright green eyes. Her pants looked so tight that he had no idea how she got into them, or out of them for that matter, and she was wearing a heavy jacket that gaped open over what passed in the spacer's closet for a shirt but was little better than a twist of cloth wrapped around her chest. 

Theron gave her the long once-over that he knew she expected from him, and even kissed her on the cheek, forcing a smile. “Good to see you, Livy. Glad you could make it. Private room? I'll buy dinner for you.. it's the least I can do for having you come so far out of your way.” He guided her through the throng to the back, catching a brief glimpse of crimson and black armor as they passed through the doorway to the private rooms. Alyxia was at the far end of the bar with four empty glasses in front of herself, looking drunkenly despondent and apparently talking shop with another bounty hunter. She didn't even look up at him as he led Livya away, but he had no doubt that she knew exactly where he was going and how quickly she could be in the room with him if she needed to be.

“Your Empress is probably pretty angry, eh? It was a last minute job, so I confess, it wasn't as neat as I'd have liked it to be. I thought she'd drop earlier but she was too strong,” Livya flopped down on one of the chairs in the room, one booted leg dangling over the arm and her chin propped up on her elbow. Her freckles stood out against her pale skin, and an uneven fringe of bangs hung nearly to her lashes. Her grin was quick and infectious, and Theron almost returned it before realizing what she had said.

“You dosed her with..? Probably wasn't calibrated for Sith, or at least, was only calibrated for normal Sith,” Theron led carefully, hoping Livy would continue to be forthcoming with answers, so long as he stayed clear for now of who her employer had been. The spacer was credit-hungry even for others of her kind, and there wasn't much she wouldn't do for a big enough score. But she'd always been nominally loyal to the Republic, in her own lawless way, so he had already narrowed down the possible subjects at least that much, unless he found different information.

“I'm not sure, but I was told that it was a really strong sedative, enough for me to get her moved and contained so she couldn't hack me to bits later. I figured it'd drop her fast. I got the first dart in her clean, but the second missed cause she was on to me that fast. Should hired more men to keep her busy, because I thought she'd come for me then, but she seemed to be fine with bugging out.” Livya shrugged, snatching a drink from the serving droid as it whirred past her chair. She took several long draws from it as Theron took his own drink, and plunked it down on the tray as the droid passed by her again, picking up another full glass and giving it a little shake to watch the amber liquid swirl. “Shoulda made sure of the darts. Next time I'll know better.. not that I'll take aim at your Empress again, Theron.” She gave him a playful wink. “I don't think she'd let me go if I tried it again, eh? She doesn't look like the forgiving type.”

“Sedative.. you were supposed to drug her. Are you sure it was a sedative? Did they have a manufacturing mark on them, anything like that?” Theron inquired curiously, sipping his drink. Livya gave him a disgusted look, rolling her eyes expressively.

“I was careful! You act like I'm not a professional, Theron. I'm just as good as you spooks,” she snapped, and he backtracked, easing off at the display of quick temper.

“Of course you are, Livya, you know I think the world of your skills. You're the quickest hand with a blaster that I've ever seen. Puts me to shame, always has.” He watched her puff up proudly, returning to her drink now that her pride was mollified. 

“Yeah, well. I suppose I might not have checked as closely as I could have, now that you mention it. It was a -lot- of credits, but I just figured it was because of who the target was. Look, I'm sorry that I used the info that I got from you. I really did feel bad about it, Theron. No hard feelings? I didn't even succeed, you shouldn't be too sore at me. Your Empress is back home with your armada of ships to defend her. All I did was take a shot at grabbing her for a nice fat paycheck. Costs a lot to keep a ship going.” Livya gave him a wheedling smile, her bright green eyes moving over him slowly. “You know, I haven't seen you in quite a while. You look good, very.. healthy. New job agrees with you. Ever think about coming back to the fold?”

“I don't have any desire to go back to the Republic, no. There isn't anything there for me now, and I'm proud of what I'm doing. What about you? Tired of crappy cantina food and gluing that hyperdrive of yours together every few jumps?” He flashed a quick grin at Livya, watching her eat up the attention and preen under it. Theron sighed internally. He should have known all along that she hadn't actually tried to kill Selirah. But now he had to find out who had hired her, and if they were the source of the tainted darts, or if it was somehow more complicated than it seemed even now.

“Nah, the Republic keeps me in cash and work, and so do my other employers. I've learned my lesson about putting all my mynock eggs in one crate. No more exclusivity for me, in any way, shape, or form. Speaking of which...” She got up and sauntered over to Theron's seat, straddling him before he even realized what she was planning. “You came all the way here, Theron. Couldn't have just been for that. I could have sent you that info in a message, if you'd wanted. So you must have been interested in more than just the job.”

Up close, Livya's odd personal scent of blaster oil, leather, and Tarisian roses was familiar, and once had been very enticing. He'd had plenty of no strings attached fun with the captain over the years, but their little encounters had ceased a long time ago, once he'd met Selirah on Manaan, and only briefly resumed during the years that she'd been in carbonite. They'd never been serious about each other, more of a casual starships passing in the night kind of situation. Taking hold of her hands lightly, Theron shook his head at her. “It's tempting, Livya. Always is, but that's not why I came. I have to tell you something, actually. I came here to clarify what you'd intended to do, and what your job had been, because I couldn't believe that you'd become someone so different from the woman that I knew.” She slid off his lap, eyeing him warily. 

“What do you mean?”

“The darts were poison, not sedative. The Empress was sickened, but was treated and recovered. I was hoping that maybe you had a few of the darts left over to give to me, so I could chase down the person responsible. I knew all along,” Theron said hastily after his lie about Selirah's state of health, seeing Livya getting ready to burst into a fit of temper at the idea that she'd been the one to use poison, “that it wasn't you, couldn't be you. That's not who you are, Livy. I just hoped that for the sake of our long friendship, maybe you could help me figure this out.”

The spacer got to her feet, pacing uneasily. She took Theron's drink in the process and finished it off, as well as another two from the server droid as he came through the room to refresh their previous drinks. Those disappeared too before she said anything, but Theron was wise enough to sit and let her work it through in her mind.

Finally, she dug into her coat pockets, and Theron held out his hand silently while she dropped a few darts into it. “I still don't want to tell you who paid me, Theron. The whole system breaks down if I have loose lips about my employers. You know that as well as I do.”

“I completely understand, Livy. Just … keep in mind what would have happened if you'd killed the Empress of the Alliance. There would have been nothing I could have done to help you.” Tucking the darts away, he glanced at Livya, seeing the brief flicker of concern cross her features. He knew her too well to think she'd be able to really grasp the depth of the enormity of what would have happened if she'd killed Seli, even accidentally or stupidly. But she understood that it would have severely cramped her style, and that would have to do. “My influence isn't that strong.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get what you're saying.” She finished off the glass of whiskey and set it down on the table. “I swear I didn't know, Theron. You believe me, don't you?”

“I believe you, Livy. You're a lot of things, but you're not an assassin.” Theron smiled at her, getting to his feet. “I really was glad to see you today, you know. You're one of the only friends that I have left in the Republic.”

“That's not true, Theron. Lots of people like you. They always did. You should keep in touch with some of us more often.. we're still the same people that you used to like before you left, you know.” Theron looked at her in surprise, hearing a note of hurt in her voice. “I'll talk to you soon. It was good seeing you too. I really am sorry for what happened, but I'm glad she's okay. I would have never taken the money if I'd known.”

“I know, Livy. I don't doubt that.” Not that it would have mattered. If she hadn't taken the money, someone else would have, and maybe Seli would have died there. Theron gave Livya a kiss on one freckled cheek and headed out into the main room of the cantina, leaving her behind in the room with a new server droid bringing in the promised dinner that he'd already paid for on his way in. Alyxia was already almost out the door when he appeared, and he frowned in thought, wondering if she'd tapped into a feed somewhere and spied on him. 

The bounty hunter always seemed two steps ahead of everyone around her. But if she had been listening in, what was the point? Simply to be sure he was safe, or something else entirely? Her allegiances were murky at best. She seemed to be loyal to the Alliance, but he wasn't a fool. Mandalorians were loyal to Mandalorians. All he could do for now was hope that she'd been telling the truth when she'd said she didn't care to tell anyone about his personal business. 

There were other things to worry about, though, and he needed to get back to Odessen as quickly as possible with what he had. With any luck, the darts would give them somewhere to start in case Livya didn't change her mind about coming clean to him, and maybe they would give the medics a better idea of how to completely cure Selirah as well.

Something good had to come out of all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Must..sleep. *laughs*
> 
> But I had to finish and get this posted. I'm hoping to get another one done before I go out of town for a few days, but no promises. :)


	39. Body and Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron finds out that Alyxia is ten steps ahead of him. Senya finds herself with a mother's worries, and Arcann comes to grips with a difficult idea.

**Rishi (the Fury):**

Oddly enough, when he got back to the ship, Theron discovered that Alyxia wasn't there. He started the pre-flight checks, and after about twenty minutes or so, he heard her entering the ship. She went up and down the ramp a few times, stuck her helmeted head into the bridge and said unhelpfully, “Got some stuff. Throwing it in the hold. Almost ready,” and then went up and down the ramp a few more times. Finally, Theron heard the ramp going up, and she came back to the bridge, pulling her helmet off and loosening the seal of her flight suit where it fit tightly around her neck. One gloved hand ruffled her damp hair, and she settled into the pilot's seat. 

“Ready when you are,” he told her, and she nodded, engaging the engines and lifting the Fury smoothly from the landing pad. “What'd you get? Rishi doesn't seem like the -best- place to go shopping.”

“Not bad for detonators. Few more explosive rounds too. More ordinance. Some guns. And a bounty.” The last was added nonchalantly, and she didn't even bother to look at him as he left the bridge, heading straight to the hold, only to find the door locked and unresponsive to his attempts to key the lock open. She still wasn't looking at him, her attention on the interface in front of her, when he came back and sat down in the navigation seat. 

“Why did you lock the hold?” he asked calmly.

“Maybe I got you a present.”

“Somehow I doubt that. Who was the bounty?”

“Not important. Blacklist bounties are confidential. I don't talk about my job any more than you would have told me all your SIS business,” Alyxia answered in a disinterested tone, her hands moving easily over the controls. Theron eyed her doubtfully, but her face was as devoid of clues as usual, the dark green eyes moving between screens, checking calculations. Once they'd jumped into hyperspace, she turned the chair slightly so that he could look directly at her, but her face was empty of anything that would have told him if she was lying to him, or not. Without one of the force users here to try to read her, he had nothing to go off of when it came to the Mandalorian's facial expressions unless she decided to show him something on purpose. 

“So was it a blacklist bounty, then?” he asked, and she smiled. It felt to Theron a little bit like seeing the teeth all come into view in a Firaxian shark's mouth, right before it eats you, and he resisted the very strong urge to give up and retreat. 

“Much better question, spy boy.” Alyxia crossed her ankles comfortably as if she weren't wearing heavy armor on nearly every inch of her body. She leaned back in the pilot chair, folding her arms across her chest. “No. I said they were confidential, which they are. Just a regular bounty though, in this case.”

“Why didn't you tell me about it?” It still felt like there was something that he wasn't getting, but it didn't feel like she was being cagey out of malice so much as just out of a lack of interest in sharing her personal business with him. Which was, admittedly, pretty typical of his experiences with Alyxia.

“It's not your bounty. It's mine. And I don't report to you, Theron. I don't have to tell you what I'm doing. I came along to keep watch over you, and I decided to do a little business while I was here. It was just an efficient use of the trip to Rishi.” She was not smiling any more, but she didn't look angry so much as just mildly annoyed by his questions. Knowing Torian, she probably didn't get questioned very often. “You've done what you came to do. Your part is finished. Just like on Corellia, Theron.”

Theron felt his heart drop. “Who was the bounty, Alyxia?” He glanced from her to the doorway, thinking of the locked hold. The carbonite chamber that was probably behind the door. “I can't imagine why it would matter if I saw the carbonite, or anything else you put in the hold.”

“Your part is finished,” Alyxia repeated patiently. “Don't concern yourself with my part.”

“Did you kidnap Livya?”

The Mandalorian gave him a disinterested stare, and turned her chair back towards the monitors. “You might as well spend the next two hours trying to break into the hold. I know that you want to. I probably didn't rig anything to the door.”

Theron stopped, already halfway out the door of the bridge. He glanced back at her and caught the faint smirk curving her lips. She wouldn't really have rigged something to the door. He was.. pretty sure.. she wouldn't really rig something to the door.

Okay, he'd be extra careful. But he needed to get that door open. Just in case, though, he put the darts in Selirah's room, on her desk, in a delicate container that always sat there. He'd never looked in it, but often had admired how pretty the little box was; finely inlaid with markings that evoked the sharp lines of Selirah's tattoos.

Opening it to drop in the darts, he saw a ring laying inside it, filigreed along the sides of the band, and set with an elegant purple gemstone cut with gleaming facets. It was small, sized to fit a slender finger, and he frowned curiously. He'd never seen her wearing the ring, hadn't even known she -had- any jewelry other than her headbands. There was only one thing that it could be; her wedding ring from Quinn. But he couldn't understand why she even still had it, all these years later, or how she'd managed to keep it through everything that had happened.

Leaving the darts inside the box along with the ring, Theron headed back to the cargo hold and started working on slicing his way into the lock. It took the better part of a half an hour, but finally the lock clicked. 

Opening the door, Theron went inside the hold, his eyes adjusting to the low, reddish light in the room. A carbonite block leaned against the wall, fastened safely there with latched straps. Some part of him had hoped that he'd get in here and there'd be nothing to see, nothing that he cared about particularly at least. Crates of detonators, missile launchers, carbonite freezing liquid. Several flight suits made of an unusually tough fabric, stretchy and threaded with some kind of thin armoring fiber. New neck seals for helmets. A couple of experimental blasters and rifles. 

And Livya, in carbonite.

“Well, that's just kriffing great,” Theron said to himself.

**Odessen:**

Senya sat in the medbay, watching over the two still forms lying there. The last, painful attack Selirah had suffered had made her lash out mentally, her agony striking Arcann through their bond. Both of them were struck unconscious as a result, and while it felt like a relief that Selirah was probably beyond the reach of the pain wracking her body, Senya couldn't help but be worried about her son. Their bond was so strong, and the Empress was weakening with each new attack from the poison running its virulent course through her veins. If she died.. what would happen to Arcann, particularly if he was still with her, entwined with her? Would he be dragged down with her, or would he be able to fight his way free of their bond? They had to find a way to neutralize the effects permanently, and it would have been a lot easier if they'd had a sample of the poison that hadn't been diluted and changed inside her body.

She knew Theron was gone somewhere.. the Fury had gone missing around the same time, and then Alyxia had checked in with a quick message, letting them know that she was with him and would bring him back as soon as possible. The Mandalorian had also intimated that they were possibly on the trail of the poisoner and would be trying to acquire a sample.

So Senya sat and waited by the side of her son's bed, watching him breathe slowly and evenly. Theron and Alyxia needed to come back soon. Before it was too late.

**Dreamscape:**

Floor to ceiling windows looked out upon a cloudy, storm-ridden landscape full of austere grey and black buildings and distant forests and mountain ranges. The apartment was large and richly appointed, with plush red and black carpets underfoot and heavy silvery drapes made of silken fabrics. Every room had a view of some part of Dromund Kaas, and the rooms themselves were tastefully decorated. Selirah was sitting on a fabric-draped couch arranged before a roaring fireplace, her back against the arm of the sofa and her gaze fixed over the back, towards the rain-streaked windows and the view of the mountains beyond. 

Arcann found himself standing before the windows, looking out at her world curiously. Lightning split the sky at regular intervals, casting a flickering light across the landscape and striking the carefully placed lightning towers. “You used to live here, I assume. What happened to it, when you disappeared?”

“It's probably still there, unoccupied,” she answered. Even from here, he could see the lines of pain marring her features, tightening the skin around her eyes. “I've always been careful about hiding the ownership of my properties. I wanted to protect them, in case something happened to me, which turned out to be a good move in the end.”

“Do you miss it? It's so.. rainy.” He glanced back out the windows, watching the incessant rainfall as it ran down the windows. “Does it ever stop?”

“I do miss it. I spent a lot of time in this apartment. Bought it after I was made the Emperor's Wrath, and we .. I .. furnished it over time with things that I found in my travels over the years. I'd never had my own place before this one. The Nar Shaddaa residence came later. So I guess I have a special fondness for this home.” She lay back against the arm of the couch, lekku trailing down over the side as she turned away to look at the fire, one hand rubbing slowly over her stomach and side, tracing idle circles. “It does stop, every now and then. The sunlight is astonishing, probably because it's so rare.”

He moved away from the windows, crossing the large bedchamber, pausing to look at the paintings on the walls; one of Alderaan's crisply beautiful vistas, and another of Taris' jungles. A seating arrangement sat beneath the Taris painting, with an ornate table set with bottles of wine and crystalline glasses. Little mementos lay on side tables, or on display shelves. A krayt dragon fang, a heavy signet ring that looked too large for her fingers. Books on war and battle strategy, another on obscure lightsaber combat forms. A pale blue flower, preserved in stasis. Pieces of a life, Arcann realized, as he examined them one by one. A life that he'd taken from her. And despite everything that lay between them, here he was, in her sanctum, seeing the private space that contained so much of who she had been before she'd come into his life like a storm, upsetting everything he'd ever known and shaking up his universe.

Slowly, Arcann finished exploring the room and came to join her on the couch, settling down on the padded seat. The carving on the wood looked familiar; Voss patterns. So this couch, too, was another prize brought from another world, long before he'd ever landed there and been healed. “Why did you choose to be here, Seli? You've never shown me this place before.” The moment the words were out, he wished he could take them back. The answer seemed suddenly obvious, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear her saying it.

“I wanted you to see it. In case anything happens to me, and I never get to bring you here,” Selirah replied, her voice soft, and a little roughened, as if even here she could no longer escape the pain of her body and the rawness of her throat from the screaming. “You should see the places I was from, and their value to me. I would have shown you all of this in time if I could have, but.. “ She smiled at him, a little sadly. “I am a realist, keella. My body is tiring. I can feel the poison burning, and I promise you that I am fighting against it. But I am tired. I'm only sorry for the pain it would bring you to lose me, because of our bond to each other.”

“I know you're tired. But there will be plenty of time to see this world, and any other that you want,” he told her stubbornly. She chuckled quietly and sat up, every motion slow and deliberate, with the air of someone who can't hide the agony any longer and has ceased to try. Arcann opened his arms to her, and she came to him, laying her head on his chest, her eyes closing as his arms wrapped gently around her. “I'm not going to let you go, Seli. We haven't had nearly enough time, and I think we can both agree that I've had plenty of loss in my life. I'm not ready to lose you.”

“We may not get to decide that, keella. But at least I have the chance to be with you, spend time with you. I won't have that opportunity with Theron, so I hope you will be good to him for me, and tell him that he was in my thoughts and my heart. That I love him more now than I ever did before.”

Arcann rested his scarred cheek against the top of her head, feeling the smooth arch of her lekku against his skin. “Of course I will, love. He deserves to know that,” he told her quietly, his voice a deep bass rumbling beneath her cheek, making her smile in response. Her skin smelled sweet even here, though he knew it was his mind providing the familiar scent of the light botanical oils that she favored. His hands moved over her body gently, stroking her arm and thigh where she was curled up in his arms. She felt small to him for the first time, fragile in a way that she had never seemed to be before. Some part of him already felt like he'd lost her, and was grieving. The rest of him refused to even consider the idea of a life without her in it... he couldn't lose her, not now. 

It should have been impossible for them to even end up together in the first place. So many different paths had somehow managed to converge in just such a way that she'd stood aside that day on Voss and allowed Senya to try to save him, even though she had been enraged at his mother's betrayal on his flagship when she'd stolen him away in his shuttle. Selirah had tried to shoot them down that day, but Senya loyally contended that it had been a warning shot and not a true attempt on their lives. His mother's open admiration for the work that Selirah had been doing with the Alliance had mattered in his rehabilitation. He'd struggled to learn to trust Selirah, but when he'd set eyes on her in the garden in Zakuul on the day of Vaylin's party, something inside him had shifted sideways, and he'd seen her differently. She'd looked so self-assured, unafraid. Met his eyes challengingly, and spoken to him, had given him the chance to say his piece and prove his intentions. He'd looked at her and realized how wrong he'd been about her. There was no way for him to know when he'd started to have feelings for her that were beyond admiration or gratefulness, or friendship. But when he'd fallen for her, it'd been like being hit by one of the lightning bolts flashing outside the windows. It'd burned everything else out of him, and had left him reaching for something new. A new life. A new direction.

And now? Now he'd found her, and he could lose her. He -was- losing her. The knowledge that he and Theron would be going through the grief together did nothing to assuage Arcann's feelings at all. Theron would be crushed, heartbroken. Selirah was his confidence; Theron was her conscience. They complemented each other in a way that Arcann thought would be impossible for the former SIS agent to ever find again. He understood the grief that Theron would have, but he knew that he would eventually move past it; that someday it would start to fade, and the pain would grow less over time.

If he lost her, though, the open wound of their broken bond would never heal. Arcann knew that he would be empty of her presence forever, and the very thought of it tore him apart, terrified him. He would be alone again, and this time, it would be for the rest of his life.

So he held her close, here in this memory of a place that she had loved and been happy. He breathed the sweet scent of her skin, and touched his lips to the curve of her lekku. He memorized how she felt in his arms, how her skin tasted, the sound of her breathing, the clipped Imperial accent that flavored her words, and the affectionate Twi'lek endearment that she called him that was his alone.

And he tried not to imagine what his world would be like without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I leave in the morning, so all of you keep writing so I have something to read! ;) I'll try to write some while I'm there, and I will be home in a few days! 
> 
> <3


	40. In Too Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Alyxia return to Odessen with their prizes, and Theron finally manages to outflank her in his attempt to protect Livya.

Theron scrubbed a hand through his hair, feeling incredibly aggravated. He'd been arguing with Alyxia for an hour, and felt like he'd wasted the entire hour completely. She was adamant that it was none of his concern what she intended to do with Livya, wouldn't tell him who she intended to deliver the Republic captain to, and was generally being stupendously close-mouthed and obstinate. Nothing he said seemed to even make a dent in her certainty that he had no reason to be interested in her bounties, and most of her responses had consisted of blank stares or comments like “She's not -dead-, Theron, so what is the problem?” and “She poisoned the Empress, why do you want her free?”, which were just challenging enough to make him struggle to come up with a fast comeback that didn't sound stupid and idealistic. Somehow, he'd managed to avoid using the fact that Livya was his friend as an excuse, but he was out of other options at this point.

Livy really had stepped in the kriffing bantha crap this time, though. Theron knew Alyxia might have been suspicious about why he was meeting someone when he should have been absorbed with Selirah's illness. Arcann's refusal to leave her side for any reason only made his absence even more notable, and he knew people would have plenty to say about that, too, including Seli herself. But if she was chewing him out for that, at least it would mean that she was doing better and recovering from this poison. And if finding the darts could lead to a better, more tailored antidote, then perhaps people would understand better why he had gone when he did. Regardless, Theron knew that it didn't absolve Livy of her role in all of this. He understood her, and knew she hadn't acted with malice, or even with full comprehension of the ramifications of what she'd done. Livy was a lot of things; silly, shallow, flirtatious, funny, talented, and a really good shot with her blasters, but she was not a deep thinker, and didn't really care about much beyond the current moment's desires. Her inability to absorb consequences wasn't going to save her with Alyxia, or with whoever she intended to give the smuggler to when they landed.

“I've known Livya for a long time. I know what she did, and I also know that she had no knowledge of what was actually in the darts. She was told that her job was to kidnap Selirah, and that the darts were sedatives to render her safe to transport,” Theron tried again, and Alyxia gave him a withering stare. 

“Who cares? Is it somehow better that she intended to kidnap the Empress?” She arched a brow, looking inquisitive. “You should have brought her in yourself. It's interesting that you didn't.”

“There was no point to it. Livya was probably going to end up telling me who paid her anyway, at least.. she was before you froze her in carbonite and flew her to the doorstep of the woman she accidentally poisoned, who happens to be the leader of the Alliance and all their military fleet power. Come on, Alyxia. She doesn't deserve to die for a stupid mistake.”

The Mandalorian made a rude noise in response, and for several moments, Theron was afraid that was the only response that she was going to give him. It wouldn't be the first time she'd just stopped answering altogether when she got tired of conversation, and probably wouldn't be the last, either. But his patience was finally answered when she said acerbically, “People die for far lesser reasons all the time. I don't understand your criteria for doing a job. She does a job against someone she knew was important to you, and you let her go. I do a job to aid that important person, and you tell me I am wrong for doing it. One could be forgiven for wondering which side you're really on right now.”

“I don't want you to kill my friend for doing something foolish, so suddenly I might be a kriffing traitor? You know better than that.” Theron scowled at Alyxia, pushing up off the navigation chair and pacing back and forth on the Fury's bridge as the ship dropped out of hyperspace, Odessen visible outside the windows. “She gave me the darts of her own volition, Alyxia. Once I told her what had happened, she gave them to me right away. Is that the act of a murderer? I know that it isn't a good thing that she intended to kidnap Seli. I'm not denying that. But if you take her down there, no one there is going to care that she didn't succeed, or that she intended to take her and deliver her to someone who is likely an enemy. Don't do this.”

“Someone took Torian from me once,” Alyxia said conversationally, her hands involved in guiding the Fury down to the surface without breaking her concentration at all on the subject they were discussing. “I did not give them a talking to and let them go. They hadn't hurt him, and their goal was to kill me, but that also didn't matter. I killed them all.” She gave him an inscrutable look, green eyes fathomless and completely lacking in any warmth or understanding. “I would kill anyone who tried to take or harm my riduur. I have no doubt that Arcann would feel the same way about the Empress. Perhaps it is just a Republic thing, and I don't understand it?”

“It's not.. I .. Kriff. You are making this much more complex than it has to be. I told you that I know what she did wasn't good, and that it was wrong. I'd just rather get the person who orchestrated the whole plan, not the unwitting person used to implement it. Wouldn't you?” Theron stopped with his hands on the back of the nav chair, watching as they came down into view of the base, feeling the time running out on his chances to convince the bounty hunter to see his point of view. “All you have to do is leave her here on the ship, we'll lock the hold, and I'll take her back myself when we've gotten the proper antidote synthesized for Selirah and she's recovering. Please.”

Alyxia regarded him for a moment before returning her attention to the controls, bringing the ship down lightly with skilled ease. “I am sorry for the distress you're experiencing,” she finally said, her cool, almost flat tone making it difficult to believe that she was even mildly sorry, “but we will find out the person who was trying to kill Selirah much more quickly directly from your Republic friend. I will pass on your concerns over her safety.”

Theron felt his jaw tense, frustration flooding every inch of his body. He knew he had no arguments left that would matter, not that any of the ones he had made had even made any difference. The worst part was that Alyxia wasn't wrong, really. If it hadn't been his friend who had done this, would he even care about what happened to them? Would Selirah understand that his worry over Livya was separate from his anger over the attack on her? Or would she see it like Alyxia did.. an incomprehensible refusal to protect the woman he loved by killing anyone who tried to cause her harm? Seli's view of killing was far more casual than his own, by default, though he had no problem killing when it was necessary. But this situation was complex for him, and he didn't want to see poor foolish Livya die because she'd jumped at a stack of credits without questioning if she'd ever actually live to spend them. 

Selirah would have choked the answers out of anyone who had done the same thing to him, and then killed them, and then gone off to kill their employer, and probably flatten whatever building they were in to the ground. She'd proven her willingness to defend him violently on multiple occasions. But she knew that he didn't think the way she did, and that he had a different view of when it was necessary to kill people. Theron wasn't positive that she'd understand his desire to let Livya go without even forcing her to tell him the name of her employer, but he really believed that the smuggler would have told him after she'd had a little more time to think about what she'd been forced into with the deception. 

Either way, done was done, and Alyxia was getting up from her seat, snagging her helmet from the floor beside her chair with one armored hand. Theron turned and left, heading towards Seli's room to fetch the darts. He'd said everything that he could, but the truth was, he'd probably never had a chance to change Alyxia's mind. She was impossible to read, and equally impossible to control. She didn't understand his motivations and didn't care, either. All he could do was hope that she was turning Livya over to someone like Sana-Rae or Yariele. Odds were better that she was going to hand her over to Lana, and again, that was a choice he could live with. Lana would at least listen to him, and hopefully side with him. But if she was taking Livya to Nox, or Lyorek... 

Theron sat down on the bed in Selirah's room for a moment, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. Hopefully it was Lana, if it was going to be any of the Sith in the Alliance. But either way, he needed to get the darts to the medical staff, so he rose and opened the box, taking out the darts and tucking them into his jacket pocket before leaving the ship. He could see Alyxia's form a ways ahead of him, her helmet tucked under her arm. She didn't have the carbonite prison with her, but he suspected that the cargo door was locked again, and it'd do no good to try to pry it open again now that they were on Odessen. So he followed behind, trailing the Mandalorian into the base, and went to the medical bay to deliver his cargo to the doctors.

The med bay was quiet when he arrived, with a few staff working. Selirah lay in one of the beds, her body looking small and fragile beneath the light blanket covering her. Her face lay turned towards the other nearby bed, where Arcann lay, similarly unconscious and with his face turned towards her bed as if even in sleep, they knew where the other one was and sought them out. Both of them looked relatively peaceful, but Theron could see the marks of pain in Seli's face, around the eyes and mouth. One of the staff came to him after a moment, a green-skinned Mirialan woman. “Would you like a chair?” she offered, her brown eyes lifting to his face. He held out his hand with the darts in them, and the dark eyes widened in surprise. “Is this the actual poison?” She took them and bustled away without waiting for anything more than his nod. Within moments, four more medics were in the room at the equipment. 

Theron lingered at Selirah's bedside for a little while, his hand resting on hers where it lay quiescent on the blanket. Up close, he could see that she was thinner, and that the illness caused by the poison was taking a toll on her, but with any luck, the darts would give the doctors the help that they needed. Then she would wake up, surely, and would recover quickly. He needed to believe that was how it would go, and so he didn't bother any of the staff or ask questions. If reality was going to be different, then he'd deal with it when it came, instead of worrying about it now.

He bent to kiss her gently, leaning down to lay his cheek against hers, listening to her breathing in long, slow breaths. Then he withdrew and left the med bay to go in search of Alyxia. He found her topside, in the cantina. Three nearly identical t-visored helmets sat on the table, Torian and Kass sitting with her. It was always odd to catch her among her fellow Mandalorians. In the moments before she realized that Theron was present, he saw her teasing Kass and rubbing the Rattataki's bald head affectionately, and even kissing Torian and laughing. The instant that she saw Theron, however, a mask shuttered that side of her from view, and even though the smile remained on her lips, it was a much cooler expression.

“I haven't done anything yet. Did you go to the medical bay, or come straight here to find me?” The question was just this side of rude, and Theron saw Torian react subtly, elbowing his wife between the sections of her armor. Alyxia didn't look at her husband, though, her gaze never leaving Theron's face.

“Why would you care?” he replied, returning her stare. “Planning to go and complete your business soon? I'd like to go with you, if that's alright with you.”

She bumped shoulders affectionately with Torian, her smile warming noticeably as she glanced into the blonde Mandalorian's clear blue eyes. “Back soon, riduur. Don't let Kass finish off my drink.” Kass grinned cheerfully. 

“I would never, Aly.” 

“Other than all of the times that you have?”

“Well, other than those times, I would never,” Kass agreed, her grin widening.

Alyxia got up and thumped Theron companionably between the shoulderblades; it was all he could do not to stagger at the hit, but it was offered in a friendly enough manner. “Alright then, spy boy, let's go. I'm curious how you'll negotiate this.” 

“Who are we going to speak to?” Theron asked, anticipating the response that came almost immediately on the heels of his request.

“You'll see when we get there. I don't want to ruin the surprise.”

“Of course you don't,” he replied dryly, keeping pace with her as they exited the lift and moved into the base proper. Lana was present in the War Room, and he waited for Alyxia to stop near the adviser, but she continued past her. Theron began to lag, glancing at Lana, catching her eye, and she spoke up as he'd hoped.

“Theron, Alyxia.. I presume now that you've returned, you have come to tell me where you were and why it was vital that you go there at this particular time?” Her dry, calm delivery belied the look in her gold eyes, an unamused stare that stopped even the bounty hunter in her tracks. Alyxia spun on one booted foot, casting an accusatory look at Theron before she walked back over to Lana. 

Theron piped up quickly, “Rishi. I had a contact with information about the attack on Selirah, so I followed up on it. I wanted to see if I could find out anything that would lead to a better cure for her, and I was successful in getting samples of the darts and poison that was used on her. My contact came through admirably, and I promised her that I had no intention of letting her be implicated, since she was just a link in the chain.” He folded his arms across his chest, resolutely looking at Lana and not at Alyxia, whose irritation he could very nearly feel radiating from her at this distance.

“A link in the chain that was partly responsible for the attack?” Lana inquired astutely, and at Theron's nod, she continued, “Was she aware of what she had been tapped to do?”

Gratefully, Theron shook his head, saying aloud, “No, she thought she was sedating her. She admitted openly that she would not have taken the job at all if she'd known what the intent was, or that they had switched the darts.”

Lana considered his words, her gaze sliding from him to the Mandalorian. “And you tagged along with Theron. I cannot imagine that you did so out of any intent to simply protect him. Selirah couldn't lay that particular task on your shoulders in her condition, so you had your own plans. What were they?”

Alyxia shifted from one foot to the other, trying to find a way around telling Lana. It was evident that she had not intended to deliver Livya to her; she'd likely felt that she was more likely to get a better price out of someone else. Theron watched her, bemused, but Lana wasn't always easy to read and he knew better than to assume that she would end up ruling in his favor. “I wanted to know what was so important that it would tear Theron away from Selirah's side when she is so ill.”

“You were curious? You?” Lana sounded incredulous, but amused. “Let's assume that I believe that. I doubt very much that you went all the way to Rishi on the strength of your curiosity. You knew he was meeting a contact there, and I would imagine that you quickly knew what he was meeting his contact about as well. With that information, perhaps some thought of making the trip worthwhile came to you, hmm?” She leaned her hip against the holo table, the disconcerting gold eyes fixed now on Alyxia. Theron was a little gratified to see the iron control of the bounty hunter could indeed be shaken, at least while in Lana's line of sight.

“I bought some ordinance, and froze Theron's contact for transportation, without his knowledge,” Alyxia admitted with poor grace, shooting Theron an aggravated stare. “She's in the hold of the Fury.”

“I can't imagine that Theron took that well, given that he'd promised a productive contact safety only to have you violate it within moments of his leave-taking.” Lana's attention returned to Theron, and he quelled his sense of triumph, giving her his best injured party expression. “Theron, stop looking like she kicked your akk dog. You brought her there. You had to know she wasn't coming with you because she loves your company.”

“I'm wonderful company,” Theron objected half-heartedly. “But I suppose I suspected she might have ulterior motives. I just didn't expect her to kidnap Livya, or I would have warned her and made it at least a sporting competition between them. She trusted me, so she wasn't likely to be even slightly prepared for Alyxia.”

Alyxia made a very rude sound in her throat, looking incredibly insulted by the idea that she would have lost any competition involving Livya. “You should have brought her in yourself. She may not have intended to kill Selirah, but she intended to kidnap her for who knows who, and who knows what purpose. Given that they tried to kill her and pin it on your -friend-, Theron, they would have killed her once they had her, even if she had only been sedated.”

Theron was ready for Lana's attention this time, but even so, she pinned him with an accusing frown, and he could practically feel the balance of blame in the room shift towards him. “She's right, Theron. Why would you have let this person walk away when they may have the information that we need? I do understand that she is a friend, and that you know her, and that you don't want to see her hurt. But you can't be unaware of the importance of getting the information about who did this quickly. Every delay makes it harder for us to get to them, and easier for them to obscure their involvement.”

He looked away from both of them, taking a deep breath and turning it over in his mind. He'd been doing that since Alyxia had mentioned how strange she found his reaction, back on the Fury. “I want the information, Lana. That's why I went to Livya in the first place, but I didn't want to bring her here and put her in the hands of people who have a less restrictive view of the importance of life. She's my friend. I don't want her killed. Ask her the questions you need to ask her, if you must, but let me take her back to Rishi after that. Unharmed.”

Lana glanced at Alyxia, and the Mandalorian shrugged, the cool expression back on her face again. The adviser sighed quietly to herself, looking down at the floor, and Theron watched her nervously, unsure what she was going to say about the whole situation. “Bring her down. And Alyxia, I will -not- require Nox's assistance in this matter.” Alyxia's jaw tightened, her green eyes furious, but she spun on her heel and headed towards the hangar bay without a word.

“She was going to give her to Nox?” Theron asked, and Lana lifted her eyes to his face again, looking distracted and more than a little bit tired.

“It was a guess, but the most logical one and judging from her reaction it was the correct one, as well. It could have been Lyorek, I suppose. But Nox is far more likely to both torture and kill your friend, and I think Alyxia felt that would be a valuable lesson for you,” Lana answered calmly. “I'm aware that is upsetting information, Theron, but leaving loose ends is not something that those of the Empire generally choose to do. Your friend attacked our Empress, and you didn't bring her in once you knew it was her. You were prepared to just let her go. I think Alyxia's doubt about you is not at all surprising. I know better, personally. I know that you are just being yourself, Theron, and that you do not see it as a betrayal of Selirah. But I want you to know that others will not share my opinion, and it's unlikely that the news will not disseminate at some point or another. Alyxia is not a gossip, but she doesn't like what you did, and she's going to make sure that you know it.”

“I can live with that, as long as Livya is returned to her ship safely. She helped, the moment she understood what had happened, Lana. I know she's foolish, and makes poor decisions. She's impulsive, but she's always been a good friend to me.”

“Do you think Selirah is going to agree with letting her go?” Lana asked dryly, a glimmer of amusement finally touching her expression and the bright gold of her eyes.

“I hope so. Because that will mean she's better, or at least well enough to make a judgment on it, and I'd do anything to make that happen. I did what I thought was best, Lana. I know it's not what some of us would have done, but it's what I chose to do, and I'm not going to apologize for it to anyone, unless it's to Seli. She's the only one who has the right to call me to task about it.” Theron shrugged. “I'm going to check on Seli and Arcann. Lana... Thank you for hearing me out. I know you didn't have to do it, and you could have just let Alyxia do what she wanted to do.”

“There was no reason to do what Nox would have done. She indulges herself excessively at times. And Alyxia is … “ Lana gestured with one hand, “I want to say devoted, but I am not calling your feelings for Selirah into question, Theron. But she is like Selirah in her devotion, fierce. Unassailable. And perhaps somewhat unreasonable and aggressive, sometimes. You have a different way, and it is not one that should be seen as less. I don't see it as less. And I know that Selirah doesn't, either.” She looked at him with a wary expression, one that didn't fade until he smiled at her. Then she visibly relaxed, offering an answering smile.

“I'm not insulted, Lana. I understand what you mean, and I can't really argue with it. I may not be quite as fierce, but I brought back the poison for analysis. I think that evens out with my failure to put blaster holes in everyone that I encountered in the process.” He excused himself from Lana's presence with that, and headed towards the med bay, arriving to be met at the door by the same Mirialan woman who hastily introduced herself as Dirali. “Have you found anything out about the poison?” Theron asked hopefully.

She smiled at him, but it was a cautious expression, and Theron felt his heart sink slightly at the sight of it. “We have synthesized an antidote that we do anticipate having a positive effect,” Dirali confessed. “And we've administered it to the Empress.”

“When should you begin to see effects? Will she wake, now that it's been given to her?”

“We were hoping to see effects already, truthfully. But her vitals are stabilizing, and she seems to be comfortable and in no pain for the first time since she was poisoned.” She patted Theron's arm soothingly, her brown eyes resting on Selirah, and briefly passing over Arcann's equally still form. “It is a good sign, I promise. Her body was heavily stressed by the effects of the poison and the pain, and the blaster burn she took in the side added to it, though it's healing very well. Give it some time to work, and I think we'll see her awake soon. It's likely that she just needs rest and recuperation time.”

“And Arcann? Have you seen any response from him since you administered the antidote to her?” Theron asked, catching the glance that the medic had given to the prince moments ago. 

Dirali smiled nervously, wringing her hands. “I really don't know when we can expect to see a response from him. The doctors suspect that he won't wake until she does. They don't really fully understand how or why he's affected, but he has none of the poison effects, so they aren't going to worry quite yet. We'll wait to see a response from the Empress, and perhaps the prince will wake. Would you like me to bring you a chair?”

“Please. Thank you, Dirali.” He went out to the cantina and picked up some food before returning to the med bay, and when Senya came by later to visit her son, she found Theron sleeping in a chair between the two beds with a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. He stirred a little when she took the sandwich, and again when she covered him with a light blanket, but went back to sleep. Humming softly to herself, she settled in on the other side of Arcann's bed, watching over all three of them and waiting to see which one would be first to awaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freezing in the north apparently motivates me. Home tomorrow at last, yay! I miss not being cold. ;)


	41. Sleep To Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much recovered Selirah discusses the dispensation of Ortolan orphans with Arcann, before rejoining the land of the living thanks to Theron's contributions to the cure. (Also, there's smut.)

**Dromund Kaas (Dreamscape):**

“Tsu'za, Ar'eswo. Open your eyes.” 

Arcann's lashes lifted, his sky-blue eyes focusing on the lavender eyes a few inches away from his face. Selirah was stretched out next to him on the bed, looking annoyingly alert and surprisingly cheerful, considering the last few days and how poorly she had been doing even a few hours ago. Even though he knew rationally that they weren't actually on Dromund Kaas, or at her penthouse apartment there, it was difficult to convince his mind of that fact when he looked around the room and saw the detail that her mind created. The floor to ceiling windows were still streaked with the constant rain, but he could see the morning light struggling to break through the cloud cover, rays of bright sunshine splitting the grey skies. 

“I like the you that is inside your thoughts,” Arcann observed, his deep voice sounding sleepy still. “You're different, here. More open. More affectionate, too.” He tightened his arms around her, smiling at the obliging grunt she gave at the pressure, her own smile echoing his. “And I like hearing your native language. What did that mean, Seli?”

She kept her smile, but he saw a familiar, slightly guarded look come into her eyes at the question. “Tsu'za … it means good morning, essentially. It's a sun greeting.” This explanation she offered freely enough, but she said nothing else for a moment before adding, “I don't like to speak Twi'leki to anyone else. Vette, sometimes, but other than her, I am only comfortable using it with you because you would hear it anyway in my thoughts. Or I would think it, dream it.. I can't keep it from you, so I suppose I don't mind speaking it to you. At least, the parts of it that you can understand.”

He could feel her lekku shift lightly against his arm, and he chuckled. “I could probably learn some of it, the parts that you use your lekku to convey,” he replied mildly. “Over time, anyway. But you probably don't want me to know when you're silently calling me an idiot.”

“Boc'ara,” Seli said absently. “That's idiot. Rock-head. Stupid. You are rarely an idiot, keella.”

“That's a relief to hear, though rarely isn't never. But don't think that you can distract me from the other thing you said. What does it mean?”

“Ar'eswo? It's just.. it's you. It's your name, and an affectionate term. It's the way it would be said in my language.” She leaned down and pressed her cheek against his, which had the added effect of hiding her expression and eyes from his view, a side effect that Arcann was sure she had intended in the first place.

“The way -what- would be said? I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. No one needs to know that you say sweet things sometimes, Seli. I'll keep your secret.” Arcann laughed, and she smiled unwillingly, unable to ignore the pleasant rumble of his amusement. 

“Beloved,” she said against his ear, her voice quiet enough that he had to strain a little to hear her, even in the relative quiet of this room. “It means beloved. It's just a term, though, a word empty of larger meaning unless it's paired with a name. Eswo alone is just the word itself. But Ar'eswo means -you- are beloved.” He could feel the flush of warmth in her cheeks where she was touching his face, and he didn't try to make her look at him, knowing that she was uncomfortable. It was rare for her to express anything like this; she still only said that she loved him or Theron when she felt it was necessary or needed, rather than just as an expression of affection. He didn't want to make her withdraw or cause her to regret being so relaxed with him. “It felt right,” she continued slowly after a moment when he remained silently listening. “You've stayed with me, made sure I wasn't alone. You helped keep me from dwelling on what was happening to me, and you showed me how afraid you were of losing me. What you did, Arcann.. I could have pulled you down with me, if I'd died. But you didn't leave me to deal with it alone despite the danger in it for you.”

Arcann turned his head towards her, his lips brushing over her cheek below the edge of her headband. “I don't have any particular desire to die, Seli, but I couldn't leave you. I can't imagine a circumstance in which I'd want to do that, now. We're too tightly entwined with each other to be parted. It'd take a death, yours, or mine.. and hopefully that won't happen for a long time.”

He could feel her lips curve into a faint smile, and she turned to look at him again, her lips touching his in a feather-light caress, a breath of a kiss. “Force users can have pretty long lifespans. We could be together for a long time.”

“That's what I'm hoping.”

Disentangling herself from him, Selirah stood up, offering a hand to him. “Come see the rest of it. There's more to see.” He took her hand with his cybernetic fingers, watching her crimson skin against the dark metal of his hand. She led him from room to room, explaining why she had chosen the art on the walls, or the purpose of each room; lounge, guest chambers that had mostly been used by her crew members, a gym and practice chamber covered in mats with a bank of windows on the far wall.

Arcann stopped her here by the simple expedient of going to the windows and gazing out at the cityscape beyond. She came to his side, sliding in against him, and he laid his mechanical arm over her shoulders, slipping it under her lekku lightly as he tucked her in against his side. “That's the Sith Sanctum, over there, the tall building in the center,” she told him absently, her arm wrapped around his waist. “Do you ever wish that I was human, instead of Twi'lek?” 

This shift of subject caught him by surprise, and Arcann glanced down at her, a half-smile curving his lips on the perfect side of his face. “No. Why would I? This is who you are, and it's not as if you have any reason to wish you were human instead of being yourself. What possible benefit would there be for you in being human that you don't already enjoy?”

She looked up at him, her lavender eyes gravely regarding his face for a moment. “Children. Nox told me that is what she would do, in my place.”

“Nox doesn't strike me as the maternal sort, to say the least,” he answered with a laugh. “I can't begin to imagine her as a parent.” 

“There were rumors about her, years ago. I remember hearing them. I don't know if they were true, or not. She didn't have children, but.. I know she had someone that she cared for.” Selirah looked away, giving him her profile, her eyes focusing on the rain gilding the windows in long, crystalline trails. “I believe he is dead, now.”

Something felt off about her statement. It wasn't quite untrue, but it was deceptive. She was telling the truth, but obscuring details. Arcann suspected that she knew perfectly well who the man was, and that he was dead, but for some reason, she didn't want to tell him. That only really left a few likely people. “She said she would have children, if she were you?” he asked, deciding not to press on something she didn't want to speak of, for whatever reason she had to keep her silence.

“She said she would have children with you. Theron brings no power to the table, so Nox is disinterested in him. She does not value the force-blind for anything but fodder.” Selirah smiled over her shoulder at him, a gleam of amusement in her eyes. “I do not share her views, obviously. It has been my experience that the force-blind are capable of great things without the power that we have. That makes them more worthy of respect than most Sith would admit, but we are not taught to see them as anything but means to an end. Our ends, whatever they may be. But I still wonder if it would be different if I were human like you and Theron. I worry that you both may regret not having children of your own.”

“Seli, even if you were... you have never struck me as the kind of person who seeks children and that domestic life.” He turned her around to face him, his pale blue eyes taking in her serious expression. “If you wanted children, I'm certain we could find one or two to adopt, Twi'lek, or human, or Ortolan, or Wookiee. Whatever you wished.” His smile returned, the expression softening his usually austere features, crinkling the blue eyes at the corners. 

“I feel tempted to say that I deeply desire to be the mother to at least ten orphaned Ortolans just to watch you squirm, but you're right. I don't really want a 'normal' life.. whatever that is, at this point. There's something else that I want to tell you.” She paused, her head tilting slightly as if she were hearing something distant. “Before we wake up, that is, because I think there is some impatience to have us do so. While I was away, in Nar Shaddaa..”

Arcann's smile didn't fade; if anything, it got a little bigger as he laughed and shook his head at her. “I don't care. I know you, and I know who and what you are. Did you think I wouldn't feel some of it, even with you trying to close me out?”

Selirah laid her forehead against his chest, one hand coming up to rest against his chest, palm downwards over his heart. “I'd hoped not, honestly. Old habits die hard, I find. I can be completely content, and still want more, and more, and more. I knew.. when you and Theron were.. I just...” She sighed gustily, and he ran a hand lightly over her lekku, watching her shiver in response at the sensation. “I didn't appreciate the fact that it felt like you both had simply waited for me to be gone. It made me angry. It's not an excuse. And I'm not apologizing, either. But that's what I felt like, even though I knew that you hadn't really done that.”

Arcann's hands moved down over her back, following the curve of her lower back appreciatively before settling on her waist. She felt his muscles flex under her hand as he lifted her suddenly, forcing her to look him in the eye once she was at his eye level. “I don't care about any of it, Seli. Do you love him? Whoever it was.” He waited until she shook her head in refusal, and then brought her closer, kissing her firmly until she ceased being rigid in his hands and melted against him, her arms twining around his shoulders, body pressing against his as he held her up against him, pressing her back against the bank of windows as her legs wrapped around his waist for balance. “Then I don't care. What difference does it make to us? It's nothing. A few hours of passion. What we are to each other is much more than that.” He leaned into her, his hands tightening on her hips, biting in to her skin painfully until she gasped, her hips rocking against his in response. “Theron would not like it. I don't necessarily like it either, but I know that I have no need to feel threatened about my place in your life. Do I?”

She shook her head silently, but his left hand slid down to her light sleep pants and closed on the fabric, tightening, ripping it down her hip. Her eyes met his, and he held her gaze, watching the hunger in her lavender eyes as he stripped the pants from her with his cybernetic fingers, dropping the shreds of fabric to the mats on the floor. 

“Tell me.”

“You don't have to feel threatened, Ar'eswo,” she answered, arching against him as his right hand slid between their bodies to stroke down over her belly and then between her thighs, caressing her until her breath came in quick little gasps, her eyes half-closed in pleasure. “They are waiting for us to come back to them...”

“Let them wait. Do you want to go back now?” he teased, two fingers gliding into her heated core, making her shudder in his arms. His hand pressed against her, the heel of his palm stirring her passion higher, grinding against her. Her hips jerked in response, and she bit her lip, her eyes losing focus, growing vague and lost in pleasure.

“No..” she said thickly, her breathing quick and ragged as he brought her to the edge of climax with his fingers and hand, waiting till she started to rock her hips rhythmically against him, pleading wordlessly for release. He watched her, seeing the moment when she went over the edge, coming apart for him, her eyes widening, lips parted on a throaty cry. Her body tensed, hips bucking against his hand, and he withdrew his fingers from her, sliding his own pants down over his hips as she shuddered in the throes of her climax. Before she came down from the heights of her pleasure, he drove into her, forcing another cry from her lips. Arcann's eyes closed briefly, savoring the incredible tightness lingering from her release, the hot, slick depths of her around his cock, hearing the soft intake of breath that she gave as he buried himself in her. 

Selirah dug her nails into Arcann's shoulders, her entire body singing with pleasure. The pain was gone; she could have woken at any time, but she felt reluctant to leave the confines of her dreams where there was nothing at stake but her own wishes and that of the man bound to her inextricably. For the moment, she wanted to think of nothing but the passion and lust she felt, the need that was driving her crazy. Arcann's hips drew back, and she tightened her legs around him, urging him deeper as he thrust back home inside her, pinning her hips against the cool window behind her. His hands supporting her, he lifted her away from the wall, dropping to one knee, then the other, letting her down on her back slowly on the sleek material of the padded mats. Her hands slid over his shoulders, down his arms, and he moved his right hand from the mat, taking hold of one wrist and lifting it over her head. Bringing up the other wrist to join the first, he held them down against the floor, letting her see the desire in his eyes as he looked down at her. 

“I wish we never had to go back,” he admitted, his deep voice roughened by passion, his hips sealed against hers, his gaze moving down to see them joined together so intimately. “I hate giving you back to everyone else, when I want you to be all mine.” Withdrawing slowly from her, he drew his cybernetic fingers down over her chest, sliding them down between her breasts, circling each one idly, tracing the starburst tattoo encircling the saber scar he'd given her. “I don't like sharing you,” he admitted possessively in a low growl, bending to close his teeth sharply on her neck, feeling her arch upwards under him, baring her throat in a willing surrender that only inflamed his desire even more as he drove his cock into her. She lifted her hips to meet his eagerly, and he lost himself in her, his thrusts losing their rhythm as the pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo in both of them. Their bond thrummed with passion, and he could feel her love and need spiraling into his, overwhelming his senses. Sinking into each other's emotions, they both rushed over the edge into climax together, unable to separate and each of them unwilling to give up the exquisite flood of sensation that came from the other. 

Losing control of the mindscape in the resulting emotional and physical wave, Selirah broke out of her internal space, waking with a start.

**Odessen Medical Bay:**

Selirah's eyes opened abruptly, and she brought one hand up to the side of her neck, feeling the dull ache of Arcann's bite there even though she knew he hadn't physically touched her. Her gaze was drawn back to him as if by a magnet, and she saw him awaken. His eyes met hers, similarly drawn, and both of them took a moment or two to realize that people were talking to them before they could pull back from the link they had experienced while she was ill. 

She turned away from the prince reluctantly to find Theron by her bedside, looking tired and worried, his hair mussed from his habit of running his fingers through it when he was thinking or stressed. He took her hand, and she smiled at him, sitting slowly up as the medics adjusted the bed so that she was supported. 

“How are you feeling, Seli?” he asked, watching her attention waver between him and the bed behind him, where Senya was hovering over her son, talking to him softly. Selirah's eyes returned to Theron slowly, and she rubbed the bruised side of her neck idly with her free hand before answering.

“A little weak, but that's to be expected. No more pain. How did they find a treatment that worked?” 

“I got my hands on some of the darts used on you, and they used it to synthesize an antidote.” 

“So I have you to thank for the fact that I'm awake at all, Theron. I'd act surprised, but you've come through so often that I'm starting to take it for granted,” she admitted with a wry smile, her fingers twining with his as he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. His hazel eyes rested on her face, relief evident in his gaze. 

“I'll do my best to never let you down, then.” He paused, and then moved to sit on the edge of the bed, keeping her hand in his. “I'm glad you're back with me. With us all, of course.. but especially with me.” 

“Me too,” Selirah answered. “Once they release me, you can take me back to the room so I can rest, but for now, why don't you tell me what I've missed so I can ruin some of Lana's enjoyment in knowing everything when she comes to brief me. Where did you get the darts?”

“That's … a long story.”

“I've got time, and so do you. Let's hear it.”

“Alright. One of my contacts had seen you on Nar Shaddaa, and was communicating with me...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came together oddly in my head, and I couldn't put it down till I finished. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I'm done messing with it. ;)


	42. Cards On The Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lana begins working towards an answer on the question of who hired Livya, and Selirah, Theron, and Arcann discuss what should be done with her afterwards.

Sitting in a chair across from Theron's contact, Selirah rested her chin on her fist, elbow propped up on one knee, silently watching the woman fidget nervously. Arcann stood beside her chair, his arms crossed forbiddingly; he hadn't agreed with her dealing with this so soon after waking up and had come along probably just so she could see the disapproving look on his face whenever she glanced at him. Theron was pacing, looking as nervous as this Livya person did, which was interesting on some level to her. She could feel the concern practically coming off him in waves, but she ignored it, and him, for the time being. 

Pierce and Broonmark bracketed the woman, standing to either side of her. Pierce was standing at a loose interpretation of parade rest, but Broonmark just towered over the other woman, looking as threatening as the Talz actually was. She could see the unease ratchet up considerably every time Livya glanced at the tall, white-furred creature looming beside her.

“We understand that you were not intending to poison the Empress with your actions, Captain. Theron has been forthcoming in your defense on that score. But we require information about your employer nevertheless, for obvious reasons.” Lana's infinitely reasonable tone was as calm as it always was, but Livya didn't look reassured by the Sith's presence, or by Selirah's silent perusal from her seat. Seli knew what stories were told about them in the Republic, and it wasn't as if she could refute most of them, or would even want to. Fear was useful, and Sith were liberal with the application of it. It greased the speed of interactions considerably if your operating procedure was known to mostly be “choke the enemy to death and/or fry them internally with a plasma blade”. 

“I know you want to know, but.. if I tell you, then I get a new pile of death marks on me,” Livya responded warily, her bright green eyes flickering between Selirah and Lana, occasionally pausing on Arcann's expressionless regard, or Theron's nervous pacing. “The bounty hunter who nabbed me could tell you the same thing. It's bad for business to be known for ratting out employers. Who's going to trust me with their contraband if they know I'll squeal if I get caught?”

“I'm certain that you can see the wisdom of accepting that your current circumstance is more immediate than future threats. Your employer, dangerous or not to you, is not here with you in this moment. You should just be honest with me, and know that we do not intend to ignore this information or let it lie fallow. This person intended the death of our Empress, and we do not take such attempts lightly,” Lana returned, a hint of exasperation showing in the bright gold of her eyes. She put a hand on Theron's forearm as he passed by her, squeezing lightly as he came to a stop. “Theron, please. You are making me dizzy. Do be still for a while, if you would.”

“Lana, there's no reason for all of this. Just let me talk to Livya and I'm sure we can get to an agreement without you all intimidating her. She understands how serious all of this is, there's no way she wouldn't. She should never have been brought here in the first place.” Theron looked earnestly at Lana, and for a moment, she seemed to be softening to his point of view. 

Then she turned to look at Selirah, who had lost some of the determined strength she'd been clinging to and was leaning tiredly against the side of her chair. Arcann had dropped to one knee next to her and was talking to her in a low tone, the rumble of his deep voice the only part of the conversation that was at all audible from their vantage point. Beneath the crimson of her skin, the Twi'lek looked pale and exhausted, and Lana's patient expression evaporated at the evidence of the poison's effects on her. “Your feelings are not objective, Theron. I appreciate your opinion and you will have to trust me to adhere to our agreement. But for now, I must ask that you join the Empress, who has other matters to see to. I will bring you the information as soon as I have it, Empress,” she directed to Selirah, who pushed herself upright with a brief nod. 

Theron fumed silently but there was nothing that he could do that wouldn't look even worse, and he knew it. Giving Livya an apologetic look and feeling stricken by the wide-eyed look the spacer captain gave him in return, he joined Arcann in following Selirah from the room and leaving Lana and Livya together. The moment they were out of view, Selirah sagged against Arcann's side, and the prince caught her easily, supporting her on the way back to their chamber. “She won't harm her any more than is necessary, Theron,” Seli said faintly. “And perhaps not at all, if your contact is wise and gives up her employer quickly.”

“I know. I just wish that Alyxia had left Livy alone in the first place. She would have given me the name freely if she'd had the opportunity to think the situation through on her own.” Theron came up alongside Selirah, but before he could offer to help, Arcann gave him a decidedly frigid glare over the top of her bowed head, his arm tightening around her protectively. 

“She is here now, and will give the name. You must have known her for quite a while, Theron; you seem quite fond of her,” Selirah replied, the subject change derailing Theron's plans to keep trying to get Livya out of Odessen in one piece as quickly as possible. 

“A long time, yes. We were just acquaintances for awhile who kept bumping into each other while I was working.. then our work coincided for a while on several fronts. We got drunk together, shared some laughs. She's got her shortcomings, but Livy is my friend, Seli.”

Arcann seemed as disinclined to talk as he was to let Theron help him with Selirah, listening to the conversation silently as he guided her to the couch in their room at her direction. Theron brought a pillow and a light blanket, and the prince wrapped the blanket gently around her, letting her lie with her head resting on the pillow laid across Arcann's lap, his cybernetic hand resting lightly on her hip. He'd positioned himself in the middle of the couch, with Selirah between him and the other end. Theron took the hint and sat on the other side of Arcann, one leg tucked up on the couch, his elbow resting on the back so he could look at both of them. 

“I'm not going to ask why you didn't bring her in yourself, Theron. Alyxia doesn't understand you, but I do. You got the darts for the medics, and you likely would have gotten the name, too. I trust that about you.” Selirah closed her eyes, and Arcann's right hand moved over the length of her lekku, very lightly tracing the black lines of her tattoos with his fingertips. “Alyxia was right to do what she did, though. I know you're unhappy about it. But waiting for people to do the right thing isn't always going to work out for you. People are selfish, and self-serving, and they often don't do the right thing at all. You should know that, after being with me for so long,” she added dryly, the words provoking a faint smile on Arcann's lips. “Your friend knows the value of keeping her silence, and once she'd gotten aboard her ship again, she could have held you off for a while. Long enough for her employer to make another attempt on me, maybe even a successful one.”

Theron sighed. “I know. I do. It's just that Livy is.. foolish. She's not a bad person. But living the life she has, you know. It's just a tough way to make a living, and she reaches right for a pile of credits when it's offered to her. She didn't think about what it would mean, even just kidnapping you.” He shot a look at Selirah where she lay, her lavender eyes half-lidded, watching him. Arcann's pale blue eyes were on him too, silent and considering. Theron wondered what he was thinking; what Selirah was thinking. If perhaps they were sharing their thoughts with each other while he spoke. It was a little unnerving, the identically guarded looks on both of their faces, and it occurred to him that perhaps the time they'd spent immersed in each other's minds might have had an effect on them and on their bond with each other. “What she did was stupid, and dangerous. I'm angry at her for not thinking it through, but I don't want her to die for it, Seli.”

“Lana won't kill your friend, Theron. I won't kill her either. That much I have control over. If her employer gets to her before we get to them.. that isn't within my control. I hope that you understand that.” She slipped a hand out of the blanket, offering it to Theron, who took it in his own, holding the slender crimson fingers and feeling the heat of her skin against his. “It's all I can do, if she doesn't stay here where we can protect her until this is finished.”

Theron hesitated, unsure if the request would be well received, but finally asked, “Would she be welcome to stay here, if she wanted to? If it's just until we've found the person who hired her?”

“Keeping her here would be dangerous.” Arcann's sudden interjection caught Theron by surprise. He'd been silent for so long, he'd assumed that the other man was going to simply keep his own counsel till he could talk to Selirah alone, or that he'd corner Theron later to argue his point. The disapproval in the prince's voice was obvious, though.. he made no effort whatsoever to hide it. “We have no reason to expend effort and risk the lives of our people to protect a Republic captain who nearly killed Selirah. Let her take her chances with her own side. They can defend her, since it is likely they sent her after Seli in the first place.”

Selirah made a non-committal noise in her throat, but she was quiet for a while, considering Arcann's words as well as Theron's hopeful plea for sanctuary for his friend. The prince's fingers continued their slow, idle exploration of her tattoos, tracing them lazily, stroking over her sensitive lekku, and after a moment, she sat up, withdrawing from his touch, unable to think with the distraction of it clouding her thoughts. Tugging on Theron's hand, she got him to move closer, leaning up to kiss him. “One vote for, one vote against,” she mused aloud. “Whose side should I come down on? I can't decide.”

Theron brought his free hand up, gliding it over the sleek line of her shoulder, cupping the back of her neck. “If she had killed you.. I would have killed her, Seli.” Arcann made a soft noise of amusement behind her, but she didn't turn to him, shaking her head at Theron gently. 

“No, you wouldn't have. You might have wanted to, at least in the moment, but I don't think you would have chosen to kill her. It wouldn't have mattered. It wouldn't change anything about me being gone. And as you said, she's foolish.. she didn't know what she'd done. And yes, I know you would kill her as she stands, keella,” Selirah added, giving Arcann a smile over one shoulder, amusement lighting her eyes. “You would have been such an asset to the Empire. Pity that your father kept you from us.”

“One of his many transgressions,” Arcann agreed, stretching his legs out in front of himself, leaning back against the couch comfortably. “I don't think we should keep her here, Seli. I am not unsympathetic to Theron's feelings about her safety, but I can't prioritize her safety over yours. Having her here with you is just... dangerous. What if someone offers her more money to finish the job? We'd have taken a snake into our home.”

“Alright. I will think about it while I rest and regain my strength, because all bravado aside? I am exhausted. I'll confer with Lana as well, and see what she thinks is the best course of action once we have the name. But if your friend isn't forthcoming, it will color my opinion of what we should do, Theron.” Selirah cupped his cheek with her hand, looking with grave seriousness into his hazel eyes until he nodded slowly in understanding. “Good. Now, if you want to observe Lana's interrogation, you can, but... I hope that you will want to stay with me instead. I would like it.. I have missed you.” 

“Of course I'd rather be with you.”

She rose, still wrapped in the blanket, and extended one hand to Theron and the other to Arcann. A faint, half-smile curved her lips as she led them up the stairs to their bed, but she said nothing until all three of them were settled, the lights out, and the desire for sleep weighing on her heavily. “So, Theron.. should I still be in the middle, or... would you prefer to sleep next to Arcann?” 

“Very funny, Seli.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week is just not giving me much time to write. Wherefore art thou, free time?


	43. Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyorek is surprisingly serious and helpful, but no one could possibly imagine that is likely to last. Selirah, Theron, and Arcann have a talk, but the part of it that sticks with Seli causes difficulty for Theron.

Theron sat on the metal stairs of the walkway, watching the two distant figures. If they had seen him, he'd seen no sign of it, but they were engaged in sparring with each other. He could tell even from here how careful Arcann was being with Selirah, not pressing her too hard, and giving her chances to catch her breath. They were smiling, and even from this vantage point, he could hear them laugh together. Watching them spar with each other was like watching a beautifully lethal ballet, every movement fluid and graceful, powerful and vital. But it was also obvious that their bond made it impossible for one of them to beat the other decisively; it came down to a draw basically every time as they read each other's attacks and brought the ideal defense to bear, simply fighting each other to a standstill and then starting over again. 

“Working up the courage to interrupt, or just watching the show?” The voice came from next to him, and it was unnerving in the extreme for Theron to realize that Lyorek had come up on him so silently that he hadn't even heard the other man's approach. The Zabrak sat down in a boneless, lazy sprawl on the stairs, leaning back on his elbows, his dark robes spilling around his tall frame in an artistic manner that would have appeared very carefully planned if it weren't for Theron having watched him just flop down like a cat. “I can't blame you if it's the latter. It's quite stimulating to watch.”

“We have some things to talk about, but it will keep, and she doesn't like feeling weakened,” Theron answered, glancing at the Inquisitor with a sidelong look. “Someone should put bells on you. You're disturbingly quiet.”

Lyorek flashed white teeth in a grin, his red-gold eyes pointedly traveling over Theron starting from his feet and working their way up with incredibly insolent laziness until they reached his face. “I could try stomping my feet, if it'd make you feel more comfortable,” he purred. “I wouldn't want to make -you- nervous. You might use some of your SIS skills on me and I'm not sure I could defend against them.” 

Theron laughed, startled out of his unease by the blatant flirtation, and Lyorek's grin widened. “You're impossible. I don't know how you and Nox get along. A more buttoned-up Sith than her I don't think I've ever seen, and you're like a bantha in a crystal shop. I wouldn't be surprised at all if she lit you on fire at some point due to your overwhelming … personality.”

“It wouldn't be the first time,” Lyo admitted cheerfully, lifting the sides of his robes with his fingertips, as if examining them for scorch marks. “She takes a certain pleasure in causing pain, after all, and the fact that she tolerates me better than most doesn't save me from her moods. I don't mind it. Access to her library and experiments alone would make it worthwhile to tolerate her moments of rage.” For a moment, there was a real expression on his face, something wistful and private that Theron felt sorry for witnessing, as if he were intruding. Then Lyorek reached out and patted Theron a little too high on the thigh for it to be anything but intended to be uncomfortable, giving him a charming and obviously engineered smile. “You should know what I meant. Your Seli has her moments too.”

Swatting the Zabrak's playful fingers away from his leg with good humor, Theron cast his gaze back out to the distant figures. Arcann and Selirah were standing close together, lightsabers still lit but aimed at the ground. They were talking, their heads inclined towards each other. The smile on his face faded a little, and he sat back, unconsciously mirroring Lyorek's insouciant recline. “She does. But not with me, at least, not usually. There was only once that she really lost her temper at me.”

“And yet, here you stand.. metaphorically speaking. Impressive. She must be quite fond of you. Tell me something, Theron Shan. Do you ever wonder what this empire will look like in five years, or ten, if we all survive to make it into something? Do you ever miss the egalitarianism of your Republic, and think perhaps it would be better if we had allied with them instead of with the Sith Empire? Do you ever think that she chose Acina because it was what she knows?” This sudden rapid-fire array of questions caught Theron off guard for a moment, and his eyes left the tableau of Seli and Arcann and moved to Lyorek's slyly expressive face.

“Of course I wonder if what we've started will endure. I hope that it will, because I think we have found a middle ground between our people.” Theron relaxed, his shoulders sinking into a less tense position. “As for the Republic.. it's complicated. I miss what it could have been, and should have been. But the reality was nowhere near as pure as the idea of it. I suppose that's true of any government or leadership.” 

“Perhaps so. Though I think our lady does well to avoid the perils of the Emperor's leadership, and she wisely has no interest in ruling by massive committee like your Republic,” the Inquisitor observed.

“I think that she chose Acina because it was the wisest choice to make, Lyo. The Republic had not approached her for an alliance. Acina did, and did so by stepping in to help with a battle.. she was timely in her assistance, and Selirah maintains our fragile alliance with them as best as she can. It was the only decision, not one that she made because Acina was Sith. Given what the Emperor did to her.. she would be likely to be less inclined to partner with the Empire than more, wouldn't you think?”

Lyorek chuckled, one shoulder lifting and falling in a careless shrug. “We expect betrayal from our own. It is the way of things. Acina says she is changing it, but it will not be easy to change the habits of generations. Still, Acina has mostly played fair with us, even if she tests us from time to time. She knows what we could do to her empire, if we chose.” He paused, then straightened, sitting up and turning halfway so that he could look at Theron. “I will offer you a little advice, Theron. Take it or leave it as you like... I will not be offended either way. But don't leave her to herself so often. I know you have a lot of responsibilities, and so does she, obviously. But if you let her, she will immerse herself in the force more, and thus in our troubled prince and the link she shares with him. If you want to remain as important to her as you are now, don't let her sink too far into him.” Rising with easy grace, the Zabrak reached down and stroked his fingers through Theron's hair without warning, his touch oddly soothing. “Go talk to her.”

Theron got up, sparing a glance backwards for the departing Lyorek. It was surprising to have him offer any kind of real help, whether it was meant kindly or not. Lyo was like Nox, hidden behind a lot of walls. His were a lot more charming, but probably also a lot more false and built from lies. Nox was what she was, and she made no effort to pretend to charm she didn't care to express, but Lyorek was a charm hurricane of epic proportions when he wanted to be. Very little about their conversation, other than the inveterate flirting, had been typical of his previous talks with the Inquisitor. But Theron took the advice at face value, and headed down the stairs towards the flat ground near the Fury that Selirah and Arcann had been using as a practice space.

She was seated on a rocky outcropping when he stepped off the walkway onto the grass, and neither of them had their lightsabers out anymore at this point. Arcann noticed him before she did, but the moment the prince's eyes met Theron's, Selirah's head turned towards him too. She had a container of water in her hand, and though she looked tired, her skin had a richer, better color than it had yesterday, and it was clear that the exercise had done her good. “Theron,” she greeted, a smile curving her lips. “You missed the chance to shoot at me to check my reflexes, but I suspect you would not enjoy the practice as much as I do. I'll have Pierce do it.” Taking another drink, she set the bottle aside, stretching legs and arms slowly, her lavender eyes following him as he came to stand beside her. 

“I don't want to risk shooting you, it's true,” Theron replied, laughing. “I know, you think I could never land a bolt on you, but it's clearly -possible-. I would feel terrible if I was the cause of injuring you, Seli. You've just gotten up from nearly dying. Could you maybe try to avoid returning to the med bay for at least a week, for the sake of my nerves? You give me enough of a heart attack on a regular basis as it is.”

“I would never want to cause you any unease, love. I'll be careful, I promise.” 

“That's your way of saying that you're going to do whatever you like. I've learned that much over the years. You always do just as you want.”

She eyed him thoughtfully, tucking her legs up under herself and taking a drink from her water bottle. “I do. But frequently what I want is to do what -you- want, Theron. I hardly think it can be said that I am not concerned with making you happy.”

“Of course not, Seli.” Theron had the grace to color a bit, his cheeks reddening as he shot a look at Arcann. The prince stood silently, blue eyes coolly watching his face. “Are we going to talk about what happened while you were away? I don't like having it hanging over all of us, and it feels like we have some things to discuss.” Sitting next to Selirah, he glanced at both of them, seeing near-identical frowns cross their faces at almost the same moment. But instead of shooting the idea down, Arcann sat as well, offering Selirah his half-full bottle of water when he realized hers was empty. 

“You're right, of course. I'm not planning to bite your heads off for it, though. I've had plenty of time to cool off from my initial reaction, and to accept that I was angry when perhaps I should not have been,” Selirah admitted, taking the offered bottle and drinking from it. “It just hurt me to feel that you only felt comfortable with each other without me present. Am I in the way? Is that what you want to talk about?” Arcann's only response to her words was to reach out to her, stroking his hand down her back, and she relaxed visibly at his touch, her gaze remaining on Theron's face. It took him a moment, but he made the connection between the other man's lack of reaction and her lack of interest in seeing his reaction.

“You two have already spoken about it. While you were sick, I assume.”

“Yes, Theron. If he wants to add to what he's told me, he can do so. Or he can add to anything that you have to say. But right now, I'm mostly interested in hearing what you want to say.”

Suddenly put on the spot without even the promise of Arcann being caught up in her attention as well, Theron felt his courage deflate somewhat. But he had invited the conversation, and he did want to have the air cleared between them all. A suspicion came to him that Arcann would be perfectly content to let him hang himself; that the other man had navigated around her unpredictable temper without exonerating Theron too.. that feeling was hard to shake. “You're not in the way, Seli, not of anything. I love you, and nothing about that has changed. I'm not going to pretend I am not attracted to Arcann, because it wouldn't fool anyone here, and I don't see the point in denying it. But I'm not in love with him, and I'm not even marginally concerned that he's in love with me, either.” Theron gave Arcann a sour look. “If anything, I'd say he mostly did it out of curiosity.”

Selirah's lips curved upwards into a smile, though it had more in common with the fierce, challenging expression that she wore during a fight than a real, warm smile. “So you wanted him, but you think he was just curious about you.” She turned that laser focused gaze on the prince, startling him before he could police his expression back into calm, his eyes widening uneasily. “Is that true, keella? Were you playing games with our Theron?”

“I don't know if I'd put it quite that simply,” Arcann protested hastily, bristling defensively at having it turned back on him. “I admitted that the first time, I was trying to put him in a position to perhaps provoke your anger, but I felt guilty for doing it. I didn't really want to hurt Theron. You know that, don't you?” 

This was directed at Theron, and while it felt tempting to leave him hanging, he relented, nodding in agreement. “Yes, I know. I know this is as hard for you to adjust to as it is for me. The only one who seems to be sailing through it is Seli, as usual.”

She chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. “As you said, I do what I want. But I do know it's not easy for either of you. Arcann tries to hide his possessive nature, but I know what he feels and what he thinks. It's not as easy for me with you, Theron. I have to guess, or hear it from you directly. I can only catch the occasional emotion from you when you feel something strongly.”

“Do I feel possessive sometimes? Sure. Things were simpler for me when it was just you and I, and I struggle with it sometimes. But I enjoy Arcann's company too, even if sometimes he drives me crazy. Anything else, though... we'll have to give it time. I can see that he's not uncomfortable with me, obviously, but.. as I said. It was just curiosity.” Theron looked down at his hands, uncertain how much more he could say without rousing the prince's volatile temper.

Selirah didn't say anything in response, and Theron was starting to feel like he'd said too much, or gone too far, when Arcann got up and came over to him, crouching down so that he was looking up into Theron's face. “I didn't mean to make you feel that way. And I certainly didn't intend to make you feel used, or like you weren't wanted. If I hadn't wanted you, I wouldn't have encouraged you in the first place.” He bit his bottom lip in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty before continuing cautiously, “I don't want to say the wrong thing and hurt your feelings, Theron. I'm not.. I don't feel about you the same way that I did about Seli that night she came to me in the Spire, or when the explosion happened on Darvannis and I pulled her out of the rubble. I knew what I felt then. It was clear, and easy to understand and decipher. This is different for me, and it's territory that I am not accustomed to at all. But I was.. no. I am attracted to you, Theron, in my way. I know that's not really easy to qualify, but it's how I feel, and it's the only way I know to explain it.” Arcann extended his right hand hesitantly to him, and Theron took it in his own. “I don't know what I'll feel in a week, or a month, or five years from now. All I can say is that it wasn't -only- curiosity, though I was definitely curious what I was going to feel for you without Selirah present to provide an excuse for me.”

Theron's expression was a melange of emotions, each one surfacing to be replaced by another as he thought over Arcann's words. Relief, uncertainty, amusement, and more than a little bit of shy pleasure, all of them made their way across his features, his hazel eyes shifting between Arcann's face and his hand, still lightly held in Theron's own fingers. His glance towards Selirah was unproductive, though. The Twi'lek's face was unreadable, her eyes coolly watching both of them in turn, as if she were content to just allow them to work this out for themselves. It was odd, and later, it would occur to him to wonder why she hadn't been more involved, or more angry, or more anything; it was not really her way to be so sedate, or passionless, particularly about something she felt strongly about. But in the moment, Theron only felt relieved that she didn't seem angry at them for what they'd done while she was gone. 

“Seli,” Arcann began, and her head turned to face him. But something in her expression or demeanor seemed to catch him off guard, and he stood up abruptly, releasing Theron's hand. Theron looked at Arcann, at the wary look in his pale eyes, and again he felt that sense of disquiet, like something was going on in her mind right now that he was incapable of understanding or anticipating. She got to her feet, sliding between the two of them and past as if they were not there, no part of her touching either of them. 

“I'm going for a walk. I can't do anymore sparring today, but I don't want to go rest quite yet. You needn't come with me.. I'll be fine. I think you two could use more time to talk anyway, hmm?” Selirah's lavender eyes touched on them both impersonally, simply making eye contact. 

“We really can't work this out, Seli. Not without you,” the prince attempted again, but she waved a dismissive hand at him and cut off whatever he'd intended to continue with, then her attention shifted to Theron again, and she turned a brilliant, intimate smile on him. 

It felt silly to think that there were really different smiles, but this one he knew. This was the one she'd given him that first day on Manaan, when she'd sauntered into the room to speak to him and to Lana as if she hadn't just cut her way through a heavily guarded, now-decimated underwater lab and attacked by nearly-unkillable mutant creatures. He still remembered that first moment, watching her come into the room, pulling all eyes to her like a magnet, including his. He hadn't been able to look away from her, and she'd known it, giving him the incredible, bold, inviting smile she was giving him right now. “Fine. We can talk later. Theron, love.. why don't you come with me? Arcann, see if Lana needs anything, or if she's gotten the information from the captain.”

Arcann looked poleaxed, and if it hadn't been for the fact that Seli'd slipped in against his side, the spicy-sweet scent of her skin filling his senses, her eyes gazing into his warmly, Theron would have felt more pity for the prince's sudden exile from her presence. He wasn't fool enough to think she wasn't up to something; it was obvious that something was going on in that head of hers. But she wanted him to go with her, and Theron was not about to refuse the invitation, rationalizing to himself that Arcann had gotten plenty of time with her, lately.

Selirah led him away from the Fury without another word, heading into the heavy woods that surrounded the base on Odessen. The trees were badly scarred from Vaylin's attack, splintered and torn apart, but as they walked further, the damage grew less and less apparent. The air was sweet and clean, and Theron could smell water in the distance, but she didn't seem to be heading in the direction of any of the nearby lakes or streams. Instead she set a meandering path through the trees, keeping the base's walls loosely in view, and after a short time, her slender hand slipped into his, fingers twining lightly together. 

“Can I ask you something, Theron?”

“Of course. What's on your mind?”

She gave him a faint, amused half-smile, her eyes on the path. “Good choice of words, actually.” Leading Theron deeper into the woods, now angling away from the base, Selirah took him into a small grassy clearing bounded by tall trees. She knelt down in the grass, and Theron sat facing her with his legs crossed, curiosity in his hazel eyes, watching her. “Why don't you ever let me look? In your mind, that is. You always tell me no, and it occurred to me to wonder why you were so against it.” Her hands rested lightly on her thighs, and she glanced at him with her head slightly bowed, her eyes thoughtfully resting on Theron's face. “I never thought that you might think I would do something to you, because I'm Sith, but... is that why you hold yourself apart from me?”

Startled, Theron shook his head hastily. “No, of course not. It's nothing like that. I would never.. I mean.. maybe in the beginning. But if someone was going to mess about, Lana would have done it, if it was going to be one of you. You never seemed like you would do that to someone.”

“Never is a strong word. I can't say I would never do it, or that I've never done it, for that matter. I prefer to just fight, it's true, but those mind tricks have their place. Theron, if you didn't think I would try to do something to you.. why?” She regarded him with grave seriousness, and Theron had the sudden feeling that he'd hurt her feelings, though he knew she would never admit to anything like that, not even now with them alone and no one to hear it but him. “Arcann shares his thoughts with me constantly and no harm has come to him. Is there a reason why you guard your mind from me so fiercely?”

“Initially, I suppose it was just common sense to me. No matter what you'd done, I knew who you were, and who you served, and it seemed foolish to let you look, or see more than I wanted you to. You could have used it against me, or against the Republic, and though I know you might have seen them as separate things, at the time.. they weren't. I had to guard my thoughts, then.” Theron sighed quietly, looking at her through his lashes, a faint hint of color rising to his cheeks. “I never thought about it after that, other than the time at the Spire. I asked you to stop, and you did. It's strange, because I envy him. Arcann, that is. I envy him being able to share that with you. I know it wouldn't be anything like what you have with him, but I don't know why it never even occurred to me to open up more to you in that way.”

Selirah nodded, but it wasn't clear if she was mollified by his response or if it'd only made things worse. “Do you... would you let me?” she asked, after several moments of silence had elapsed. “You can say no. I will understand.” 

Something inside him rebelled at the very thought of it, and he felt unexpectedly torn over what the right response was to the question. Gently phrased or not, some part of him still felt desperately uncomfortable with allowing a Sith of her power to openly touch his thoughts. The fact that he had the thought about her at all shamed him, but it didn't erase the discomfort, either. “Seli.. I'm not sure that I am ready to do that,” he began uncertainly, and he saw something shift in her eyes, the gentleness that she often showed him hardening into a guarded, cool expression. 

“I apologize. I should not have asked,” she bit out, her clipped, Kaasian accent making the words even chillier. “We should head back. I feel tired.” 

Theron closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he could get the last few minutes back, handle them differently. But when he opened his eyes, she was standing there, impatiently waiting for him, her back towards him and a stiff line to it that he knew he'd earned. So he got up, trailing after her slowly as she led the way back to the small back entrance of the base rather than going all the way to the Fury's dock.

Neither of them spoke on the way back to the base.


	44. But My Mind Holds The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The perpetrator of the attack on Selirah is uncovered. Selirah deals with the issue of Theron's rejection in a somewhat Sith manner. Arcann has a question for her.

“Did you hear me?” 

Lana's voice broke into Selirah's introspection, and she turned to look at the other woman. “Sorry, no. What did you say?”

“I said it was the Hutts, Empress. The captain didn't meet with them directly, and she only found out who the representative was working for after Theron came to her with the information about what she'd inadvertently done to you.” Seated in a chair across from Selirah in the Empress' chamber, Lana watched the Twi'lek's face, noticing the irritated reaction she showed at the news. “It's evident that they knew you would not work with them, or allow them access to the wealth of the systems we have control over. They most likely thought eliminating you would give them a chance to have someone they could work with, or that it would provoke a territory war between the Republic and Sith Empire when they tried to swoop in and take what you'd left behind.”

“Yes, you're correct, of course. Do we know which Hutt, or would you prefer that we just kill them all?” 

Lana blinked at her, looking startled, then smiled hesitantly. “A fine joke, Selirah, but we do know the name. One Veelo the Hutt, who makes his home on Nar Shaddaa, as it happens.”

“Are we certain there is no Republic or Empire involvement with the Hutt's attempt on my life?”

“No, not as yet, but I will be checking into any links. I'll update you with the progress once I know more.”

“Then I'll leave the preparations to you, Lana. But I will be going when it's time to deal with the Hutt.” Selirah looked past the adviser's shoulder, her lips curving into a smile. “If that's all, then I must beg your pardon. I've scheduled too tightly today and my next meeting is here.” 

Lana got up, turning to the doorway to see Arcann leaning against the wall there with his arms crossed, his amused smile an echo of Selirah's expression. “It's a holo-serial, Lana, so if you have something important to work on with her, it can certainly wait,” the prince offered politely, but the adviser chuckled, shaking her head.

“I have work to do that doesn't require Selirah's help, and a little amusement could do her good, I think. Enjoy your serial, you two.” 

Lana slid past Arcann into the hall, and he came into the room, closing the door behind himself. “Are you going to send the spacer home in one piece?” he inquired, standing on one leg to pull off one boot, then the other, dropping them to the floor and then neatly standing them up against the side of the couch, crossing the floor barefoot and settling down on the couch next to Selirah. “I assume so, since it is what Theron wants.” The observation was offered without any particular rancor, and as she leaned back against him, bringing up the holo-serial with her datapad and then streaming it to the larger holodisplay in the room, he bent to kiss her. He'd intended just a greeting, but her hand slid over his thigh, and she leaned into him, her body pressing close to his, and the kiss turned into a far more passionate hello than he'd meant to give her. 

When they parted a few moments later, both of them were breathing a little heavily, and he realized she'd even had the forethought to pause the show before it could get started. Sprawled halfway across the couch and almost entirely on top of him, she looked down at the prince, her lavender eyes full of heat. “You know, you just saw me this morning, Ar'eswo,” she said conversationally, a hint of a teasing smile touching her lips. “But.. we haven't seen each other all day, and I missed you too. And yes.. I have already given orders to let Theron take her back to her ship. They are probably on their way off-planet now.”

“Was he pleased to be able to get his friend safely away?” Arcann reached across the couch for a cushion, pulling it up and stuffing it behind his neck and head before settling Selirah against him more comfortably, her head propped up against his shoulder so that she could see the holodisplay clearly. “I know she refused the offer to stay here.”

“He did his best to convince her to stay, but she was determined to get back to her ship.” She shrugged lazily, tapping the datapad and reactivating the show, a humorous serial about a Rodian double agent who utilized a plethora of ridiculous disguises. “He got what he wanted, though, even if she didn't stay here on Odessen. If the Hutts kill her, it will at least not be something I can be blamed for in any way.”

“Why would he blame you for that? She contracted with them,” Arcann pointed out, his fingers tracing idly over the curve of her back. He glanced at her, then back at the show, asking quietly, “Is this about whatever you spoke with him about yesterday? Both of you seemed different when you came back afterwards.” He hadn't pressed her on it when they'd come back; she'd looked so brittle, and even felt so in their bond. They'd both spoken to each other as if nothing was wrong, she'd smiled at Theron, kissed him goodnight, all the things she normally did. But something had felt slightly off in the way they looked at each other. Selirah had looked hurt, mostly, with an undercurrent of anger, but Theron's expression had been difficult to categorize.. somewhere between guilty and stubborn.

It took her a long time to answer, but Arcann wasn't surprised by her reticence. Whatever had happened between them had upset her.. he'd been able to feel her turmoil before she'd even returned. But she hated to expose anything that looked like weakness; an artifact of her upbringing and the way the Empire had operated for the Sith. It was something he understood very well, given the cruelty his father had always displayed towards him and his siblings, and his intolerance of anything but perfection. So he watched the show, laughing with her, his arms around her, and he just waited. She'd talk about it when she was ready. The first episode played to the end, and as the second one queued up, Selirah paused the playback, moving her hand off the datapad she'd set on his chest, her fingers resting over his heart, pressing her palm lightly there to feel it beat beneath her hand.

“Do you trust me, keella?” she asked, slowly. “I mean, do you think of me as trustworthy?” 

“I trust you. I trust your judgment, and your opinions, and I trust in your love for me. I trust you at my back in any fight. Seli.. you know that Theron trusts you. I hope you don't think otherwise, regardless of what he might have said. You know how he is. He probably just said something wrong, or worded it a little badly.”

She curved her fingers, arching them off his chest, then flattening them again, her hand moving upwards to trace along his jaw, stroking higher to feel the line of his cheekbones under her fingers, then moving her hand back to brush over the short stubble of his hair. “He trusts -me-, yes. As a person. But.. I think some part of him still sees me as a Sith, and he can't trust that view of me, if that makes sense. I don't know if you will understand the immense level of animosity that exists between the Empire and the Republic. We have sought to eliminate each other by any means necessary for so long that it's nearly ingrained in us to hate each other.” Selirah made a small, frustrated sound, and Arcann brought one hand up to stroke his fingers down the length of her lekku soothingly. 

“Is that what he said? That he didn't trust you because you were Sith?” 

“Not in so many words, but.. he implied it. He has never let me use the force to look into him, to touch his thoughts. Never. In all the time we've been together, Ar'eswo. I've only even tried once, maybe twice. He told me to stop, and I stopped.” She faltered into silence, and sighed softly, her arm sliding down to his waist, holding him tightly. “He told me he couldn't let me. That it'd started out as just common sense because he was SIS, and Republic, and I was Sith, and the Wrath. I can understand that part easily. But now.. I don't understand why he can't trust me. I wouldn't hurt him, or do anything to influence him, keella. I just want to understand him better.”

“He knows you wouldn't hurt him. I don't know what he was thinking at the time, or why he said it. But Seli.. Theron loves you enormously. He wasn't trying to hurt you.” He could feel the hurt that she felt, though she was stifling it aggressively, and he could feel her emotions coloring his own reaction, pushing on him, making him experience a fraction of what she felt. “He knows that it would just be like what we share together, doesn't he? One-sided, admittedly; but even so, it's mostly just surface thoughts and images that you'd get anyway. Perhaps he just doesn't understand what you are looking for. He's a secretive person, Seli. His job aside, though you can't disregard it.. he's always been very private. He probably knew he loved you before you went on Darth Marr's ship, but it took him until recently to tell you. Theron is a cautious man, and he is slow to offer any insights into himself.”

She said nothing in response at first, instead choosing to start the show up again. When something funny happened, a line, an amusing physical joke; Selirah would listen to his laughter beneath her cheek where it rested on his chest, the rumbling bass chuckle bringing a small smile to her lips more successfully than the show itself. “I don't want him to keep me shut out.”

“And you should tell him that. He should know that he might have to learn to open up more to us.” Arcann's hand stroked over the length of her lekku slowly, the starkly tattooed skin soft beneath his fingers. “Do you think that perhaps you should be a little more patient with him about something that even you admit he would once have had reason to fear?” There was a hint of humor, very gently offered, in his voice, and Selirah rolled her eyes, but her sigh was resigned and not aggravated.

“I am -very- patient. Immensely. I am Jedi-like in my patience,” she retorted. “But I will try. I suppose it's a good thing that I'm likely to live for a long time. I'll need it if he's going to be so difficult about every little change.”

“Yes, Seli, because you are so well-known for your willingness to change,” Arcann replied dryly. When the sudden, but perhaps not wholly unexpected shove powered significantly by the force occurred, the prince found himself sprawled very abruptly on the floor on his back, while Selirah looked down at him from the couch, laughing. 

When he yanked her down to the floor with him a moment later, it was also not wholly unexpected. She was smiling when he kissed her, and rolled her onto her back beneath him, but she looked up at him from that vantage point, and something in her expression made him stop. Arcann balanced over her on his hands, his lower body pressed to hers, and lifted his right hand, touching her cheek lightly, fingers stroking the soft skin. “Haven't I done enough to prove how much I've changed?” she asked, her voice hesitant but flavored with a hint of frustrated anger. “How much more do I have to give up to be good enough?”

“You are more than good enough, love. No one could think otherwise. Theron doesn't think otherwise, either,” he answered reasonably.

“No. -You- don't think that about me. You take me the way I am, and don't expect me to be something watered-down. If I'd gutted that little worm of a smuggler, even if I'd tortured the answers out of her and then killed her, you wouldn't have changed your opinion of me in the least.” Her hands slid down over his ribs, to his waist, stripping his tunic and undershirt up over his head as he leaned back onto his knees, straddling her hips. He let her pull them off, opening himself lightly to her through the force, feeling the pain in her that she was hiding beneath her show of anger.

“I'm not Theron, love. You know who he is. Why are you so angry now?” He watched her crimson fingers trailing over his chest, the oval nails scraping over his skin, leaving red marks behind that made him inhale a breath sharply. Her hands reached his waist, and Selirah unfastened his pants impatiently, peeling them down over his hips. Her eyes were bright, the gold rim around her irises bleeding into the lavender as she looked at him. 

“I'm not angry!” she snapped, instantly knowing she'd proven his point the moment the denial was out. Arcann got to his feet, his pants open and low on his hips, exposing a mouth-watering expanse of muscular stomach and narrow hips as he bent and lifted Selirah easily, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her up the stairs to the bed. He laid her down on the covers, sitting next to her and slowly removing her clothes, piece by piece. The prince said nothing as he did it, his presence in the bond a golden flame, warm and controlled. When she spoke again, he was stroking his hands down over her stomach, his fingers warm and firm against her skin, the touch distracting her from her burgeoning fury. “I want him to trust me completely, Ar'eswo. I trust him, and he used to be my enemy too. It hurt me to have him refuse.”

There, finally, was the actual crux of her anger and pain, and Arcann's shoulders relaxed slightly at hearing the admission. Tension left Selirah's face and her body at the same time, and she sighed audibly, her eyes softening as she watched him. He slid his pants off, stretching out on his side against her, their bodies touching skin to skin. The feeling of the heat nearly radiating off her skin made it attractive to just touch her, much less to be closer than he was now, and Arcann was not interested in resisting that desire in the least. “You can tell him that when he comes back from Rishi, and I'll be right by your side when you do, Seli.” 

Her mouth brushed his neck, and he closed his eyes, her teeth nipping lightly at his skin forcing a shiver from him. Selirah pressed him onto his back, shifting to move over him, her thighs straddling his hips. He could feel the heat of her sleek, wet core pressed against him, and he bit back a frustrated sound as she slid against his cock teasingly in slow strokes without taking him inside, her hands spread on his chest. Selirah's fingers curled, and her nails bit into his skin sharply, painfully, and his eyes opened wide, arousal darkening the pale blue. Arcann took her hips in his hands, lifting her slightly and bringing her down over him deliberately. Her breath escaped in a long, shuddering groan of pleasure, and he felt her mental shields open to him at the same moment, letting him feel the desire suffusing her. 

Lost in her as she let her emotions twine with his, they both sank into each other as he pulled her down onto his cock, impaling her ungently, his fingers tightening on her hips to hold her sealed against him. Selirah rocked her hips against him despite his grip, the bruising strength of his cybernetic hand making her gasp, but the movement of her hips making Arcann lose his iron control. His hands loosened, and she smiled triumphantly down at him, lifting her hips and thrusting down over him, drawing out each stroke slowly and building their passion with her unhurried pace. The prince let her set the pace, watching her through half-lidded eyes, his breath coming in rumbling inhalations. She bent to kiss him as the pleasure built to an unbearable pinnacle, both of them reaching release within moments of each other, their bodies entwined almost as intimately as their joined minds. Her soft, throaty cries were muffled against his mouth, and he rolled her onto her back when she clenched around his cock, driving into her from above for a few more thrusts until he felt his own climax hit. The pleasure felt endless for that moment, washing over both of them in a series of waves until he let himself collapse to the bed with her, still joined together, his arm draped across her heaving chest, both of them breathless.

Arcann watched her as she lay next to him, a faint smile curving her lips. He was struck again by how different his life was now than he'd ever imagined it would be when he'd led forces against her Empire. His entire upbringing, the loss of his brother and sister, his father's cruelty, his own terrible choices; they all seemed so long ago, and all of it came back to her entering his life. His hand curved lightly around the arcing sleekness of her ribs, stroking down over her belly to her hip, her leg thrown over his, and he saw her smile widen slightly, her sleepy lavender eyes focusing on his face when she turned to look at him. “Seli... I love you,” he said, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room. 

“I love you too, keella,” Selirah answered lazily, a bemused attentiveness given to him. He could feel the truth in her words, and the depth of her affection washing over him through their link, and he couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like to have never known her, or had her love. Or what it would be like to ever be without her in his life.

Arcann watched the sleepy pleasure in her face give way to surprise when he continued, “I want to always be by your side. Will you marry me?” Selirah's eyes widened, and she blinked at him. He halfway expected her to get up and throw some clothes on and be on her way to another planet within five minutes, but she didn't leave, and she didn't look panicked, just thoughtful. 

As she opened her mouth to answer, the holo began chiming for an incoming call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twi'leki/Ryl:  
> Eswo (Ar'eswo in the chapter) = Beloved, or exceptionally favored; requires a noun/name, or part of a full name to make it meaningful. (Arcann's name is therefore part of it as it is used here)  
> Keella = Darling.
> 
> Real life is not my friend right now. ;) I apologize for having to slow down so substantially! But it was nice to sit down and finally complete this chapter that I've had half-finished for what felt like forever. <3


	45. Fall To Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to go sideways, first in smaller ways, and then in a big one. Arcann and Vette are the bearers of bad news.
> 
> Theron makes a new acquaintance.

This was probably -not- how the aftermath of a proposal was ideally intended to go. 

Selirah found herself dealing with several administrative and military fires all at once in the wake of that holocall. She wasn't sure if she was relieved to have more time to think about the implications of Arcann's question, or if it only had the result of giving her more time to make herself panic, but either way, there was suddenly no opportunity to do anything but throw on clothes, kiss the prince and apologize fervently as she'd headed out the door to meet with Lana. She'd told him that they would talk about it later, that it wasn't a no, that she had to deal with what was going on. He'd told her that he understood, not to worry about it, and that he'd talk to her when things quieted down. They'd both been very adult about the entire thing. Theron would have been amazed, if he'd been there to see it all. Theron probably also would have been displeased with the whole 'marriage proposal' thing, though, so on the balance of things, it was perhaps for the best that he hadn't been back yet from his run to Rishi.

That'd been six.. no.. seven hours ago, and she was still sitting in the War Room with four empty cups of caf arrayed around her, trying to keep her eyes open while one of their patrols reported in about a strange attack by an unidentified group of mercenary troops. This was the fourth patrol to have a similar story, and by the second one, Selirah had begun to feel a little bit annoyed. Now, she was well past annoyed and on to furious. It was obvious that someone was testing them, and it was hard not to want to draw a line between the Hutts and the current attacks. The simplest answer hadn't always turned out to be the correct one in her experience, though. She didn't want to assume and end up missing a different connection; and the truth was, something felt off about the whole thing. It probably did tie into the Hutts and their power play. But she was starting to wonder if that stupid little Republic smuggler hadn't been the only one duped by the murder attempt on Nar Shaddaa.

“Lana,” she said finally, interrupting the patrol captain with ill-grace, “we cannot keep allowing patrols to go out under these conditions without increasing the size and substantially increasing our presence with our fleet as well. Someone is testing our strength, and if we keep letting them push, eventually they will try to eliminated a few squads. So far, we've been lucky, but it's clear to me that escalation is the next logical step.”

Lana, for once, looked just as tired as Selirah, her normally-pristine clothing slightly rumpled and her sleek blonde hair pushed irritably behind her ears. “I have to agree. We need to reconfigure the patrols, and dedicate more of the fleet to protect our worlds.”

Lounging in the corner, Lyorek sat in a graceful sprawl, his long legs stretched out in front of his chair and one arm draped over the back. The other hand was on the datapad balanced on one of his thighs, fingers dancing lightly over it. “The fleet redeployment is simple enough but we're going to have to start to move some of the recent graduates to fill out the patrols. Sana-Rae's students, the new Knights, and more Skytroopers as well. Raising production levels on Darvannis now,” he interjected, red-gold eyes flickering towards Arcann as the prince came into the room from the top level of the base, carrying two more cups of caf, delivering one to Selirah and the other to Lana. 

“Ask Jorgan if he's got some good prospects, as well,” Arcann added mildly, and Lana nodded in tired agreement, sipping her caf gratefully. 

“Yes, another good option. We will need a 10% increase in personnel to meet any potential escalation appropriately. I think we can hit that goal with these changes.” Lana paused, then added apologetically, “We have more adjustments to make, and we should address the possible causes of these added aggressions, Empress. I'm sorry. I know you're tired. We're all tired.”

“It's fine. This is important, and it's not optional. But this would go more smoothly with Theron to help with the information gathering. Has he updated with his position recently?” Selirah finished her caf, ignoring the pain of a nearly burned tongue from the heat of the freshly made drink and glancing towards Lana and then Lyorek in turn. 

“No. But he's not much out of pocket as far as time goes.. sometimes the flight patterns over Rishi are just too congested to get launched quickly, and pirates are not known for their organizational skills.” Lana's reasonable tone did much to ease Selirah's momentary spike of worry, but she still felt uneasy to have him away right now, with some unknown enemy picking away systematically at their troops.

Sana-Rae joined them, with Jorgan on holo along with his wife Teryn, and Master Yariele, all of whom were on Zakuul presently working with the Knight prospects and the militia corps. Kass and Alyxia showed up after a while, murmuring to each other in Mando'a, while Torian offered some ideas for re-deployment of some of the clans.

Vette came in, watching the controlled chaos of the room for a moment. She beckoned to Arcann when she caught his eye, leading him out into the back hallway and into Selirah's quarters. “So.. I've been trying to raise Theron on holo,” she began, her eyes darting nervously towards the hallway. “Unsuccessfully. He hasn't answered, and the shuttle is still there on Rishi. Look, I know that things are a little... stirred up right now, with the patrols and all. But I think something is wrong and no offense but...” she hesitated, giving him an uneasy look. 

“You'd rather I told her,” Arcann filled in, and Vette gave him a relieved nod. “We need to be certain before we give her any kind of news like that, Vette.”

“Yeah. Well. Short of going there.. if he doesn't answer..” As if by design, the holo chimed, announcing an incoming call. Vette hastened over to it, frowning. “It's Theron's frequency. Maybe you're right and I was too quick to assume the worst,” the little Twi'lek said with a nervous laugh. 

She hit the key to answer, but it wasn't Theron on the holo. Masked and hooded, the most that could be seen about the person on the other end was that they looked Sith, and female judging from the shape of the body under the warrior's armor. She wore two lightsaber hilts, and the mask was one that Vette recognized as a common Sith battle mask, featureless and intimidatingly blank, with slits for eyes, the planes of the angular metal decorated by engraved scrollwork. 

“The former Emperor of Zakuul,” the metallic voice shared Selirah's clipped, elegant accent, icily devoid of inflection. “I had hoped to reach the current Empress, of course. But from what I have seen, you are close enough to be useful. As you've no doubt assumed, I have something that belongs to your Empress. This is not a ransom call, so you need not worry about raising any credits; though I doubt you would have much trouble raising a considerable sum at a moment's notice, if I did wish for it. Perhaps that will change in the future, when I tire of amusing myself.”

Arcann glanced at Vette briefly, making a quelling gesture with one hand when she started to open her mouth, no doubt to say something incredibly inflammatory. “You have the advantage of me, Lord..?”

“Darth Cynera, actually. I don't like to stand on ceremony though, so you may call me Cynera, if you wish.. My condolences on the death of your father, Prince Arcann. He was an indomitable force, wasn't he? I suppose it can be argued that he planted the seeds of his own demise though, in you and in your Empress.” There was a hint of amusement in the cool, modulated voice, filtered through the mask. “I don't think he could have begun to imagine that his little puppet would seduce his own power-mad son. Though, my guest here was probably unpleasantly surprised by that fact as well. Weren't you, Theron Shan?” She made an impatient beckoning gesture with one gauntleted hand, and Theron came into view on the holo, his arms cuffed painfully tightly behind his back. He looked shell-shocked, his face bruised and bleeding and his implants damaged and dark. A slave collar was wrapped around the nape of his neck, and he flinched automatically when Cynera made another light gesture to someone just out of view who took Theron away again. “He doesn't seem to have much to say right now, but I'm certain he'll sing for me later.”

“If you don't want a ransom to return Theron to us, what is your goal here, Darth Cynera?” Arcann's tone was bored and disinterested, slightly haughty, his arms folded across his broad chest. “The Empress is going to take a very dim view of this affront to her people no matter which way I spin it to her, and I have very little interest in even attempting to spin it in a positive way anyway, since I have no reason to want to scratch your back when you're giving me nothing but bad news to bring to her. I doubt your own Empress will think much of you violating the agreement between our two Empires, either.”

“That last bit would be true, I'm sure, if I was interested in what Acina was doing with her watered-down vision for the new direction of the Sith.” The masked face tracked over towards Vette, examining her in silence for a moment, then slowly returned to Arcann. “Consider me an independent agent, working for my own purposes. Tell your Empress whatever you wish about our conversation. But Theron Shan will be remaining as my guest for the time being. You'll hear from me again; I'm sure he'll be kind enough to let me use his frequency for further chats.”

The holo went dark, and Arcann and Vette looked at each other for a long moment. “Bring her here, Vette, if you would. I'll tell her,” the prince said gravely, and Vette sprinted out into the hall to get Selirah from the War Room. 

**Rishi:**

The holo went dark, and Theron felt a sense of dread settle over him as the masked face turned back to him. “You think they will find you. But I intend to keep that from happening,” Cynera said mildly, her gloved fingertips tracing a line from his damaged implants, down over his jaw. She cupped his chin, lifting his face and turning it back and forth, examining the bruising and damage she'd done to him in the process of capturing him on the docks. “I could give you some kolto for these bruises, but I don't think I will just yet. I like how you look roughed up. It will make her more afraid for you when I let her see you, and I prefer for her to be off-balance.” 

“She won't deal with you, not even for me,” Theron replied after a moment, feeling his lip split and begin to bleed again the moment he tried to speak. His jaw ached, and he could feel one eye swelling painfully. 

“We'll see. But I've done my research, and I think that you are wrong. You should be hoping that you are wrong, as well, for what it's worth,” she replied conversationally, and with his chin tilted upwards, Theron didn't see the other fist coming for his stomach until it struck him and folded him in half, her force-imbued punch knocking him backwards several feet and crumpling him to the floor, wheezing in pain. She walked over to him and crouched next to him as he tried to catch his breath. Even behind the mask, Theron could practically feel the smile she was surely wearing as she watched him. “If I am right, she will try to find you and keep me amused. If you are right.. I will get tired of you, and I tend to break my toys when I am bored.” 

Then she hit the button that activated his slave collar, and Theron screamed, his back arching as the current shocked him agonizingly. The few remaining sections of his implants that were functioning fried quickly under the onslaught, and as he started to lose consciousness, he heard her cold voice speak again over his pain-wracked body.

“We're going to have so much fun together, Theron. You'll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darth Cynera's mask resembles the Eradicator's mask, for those of you who like visual aids. ;)


	46. So Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and company land on Rishi in search of Cynera and Theron.

Selirah had barely spoken to anyone on the way to Rishi, and most of them had known better than to even make the attempt, given Theron's conspicuous and disturbing absence and the news of his capture. Arcann tried to suppress as much of his own emotions and feelings about the situation as he could; Seli was already on edge, and she didn't need the weight of his thoughts pressing on her mind as well. But it was hard to conceal his concern from her. 

The reaction of the Sith in the base when the identity of the person holding Theron came to light had been sobering, to say the least. Without exception, they had all exchanged weighted looks at each other when he'd mentioned Darth Cynera's name, and all of them except Nox had seemed more than a little bit sickened by the news as well. Nox had been calmer than the others when faced with the information, but Nox's attitude towards violence was well known among the Alliance members, so her relative equanimity towards the information was not very soothing. 

Lyorek, normally jaunty and impossible to repress, had almost had to be physically forced to come along when Selirah had announced her intention to take a team to check for any information on Rishi about Theron's whereabouts, and to bring back the shuttle as well while they were on planet. The handsome Zabrak Inquisitor was still sullenly silent as they put the ship down at the spaceport, and Arcann had a feeling that it might be more trouble than it was worth to drag him with them. Hylo and Gault had accompanied them as well, but they wasn't going with them further than the spaceport, just fetching the shuttle to bring it back to Odessen.

Alyxia's silent presence seemed to be the least irritating to Selirah's slow-burning rage, and they were the first off the Fury, the bounty hunter trailing the Twi'lek with her hands resting on the hilts of her blasters. Arcann was never sure if she was actually anticipating trouble, or just hoping for it, but either way, he knew that the Mandalorian would do whatever was necessary to get the job done with no miscalculations. 

None of them had any thoughts that Theron would still be here. But if they could find any kind of clue as to where Cynera had taken him from here, it would be more information than they had possessed before, and would at least give them some kind of starting point to work with instead of flying completely blind. 

Lyorek trailed off the Fury behind Arcann, his hood pulled up and his face half-shaded from view. “Why don't you want to be here, Lyo.. this seems like it'd be fun for you, since I doubt Seli is going to care what you do or to whom while you're here, as long as we turn up some information,” Arcann asked the Zabrak, and the heavy black hood turned towards him. 

“Because I know Darth Cynera,” he answered, pitching his voice low so that it would not carry to Selirah where she was shoving people out of her way up ahead, clearly spoiling for a fight. “She is dangerous. It doesn't bode well for our Theron that she has him, at all. I am a little surprised she didn't open the conversation by sending us a body part.”

“Does Selirah know this about her too?” Arcann found himself imitating Lyorek, lowering his voice to keep their conversation at least somewhat private. “I don't know how many Sith actually know each other well, and I do know that Seli's particular path to power was somewhat.. solitary.”

“She knows. We all know. But I'm not sure how well they knew each other. As you said, Selirah was very solitary. Partly because of how she came up through the ranks, and what she became, but also because she is an alien, and Cynera is not.” They followed in the wake Selirah had left, and Arcann was glad of Selirah's violent history here in the pirate town; the fact that all the pirates knew better than to pick an argument with her kept anything more violent than a few muttered insults from being tossed her way. Lyorek kept pace with the two women ahead, but he seemed perfectly content to keep a little distance and let them lead. “I'm sure she's told you what it is like, being an alien in the Empire. It can be very isolating.”

“Even for you? I don't often see you spending -your- evenings alone,” the prince observed dryly, and Lyorek grinned at him playfully, some of the attitude he'd displayed until now melting away into his usual charm. 

“That's true. But I am not the former Emperor's Wrath, or a former Dark Council member. I'm comfortably mediocre in the ranks of Sith, particularly now that I am here with you all. Even if I'd returned to the Sith Empire under Acina, I would still be a non-threatening Sith in the hierarchy... it removes some of the stigma.” He paused, then added slyly, “Besides, the fact that I am an alien is -why- I am sought out. Exoticism, and all of that. Selirah surely understands that effect.. she is Lethan, and if she weren't as powerful as she is, she'd have been a very valuable slave.” Arcann made a face, and Lyorek laughed at his expression. “You Zakuulans. You think you are better because it is droids who do everything for you. It's just another form of slavery.” 

“It's not!” Arcann responded, stung, giving the Zabrak an annoyed glance. “They're droids. It's not … the same thing,” he finished a little lamely, remembering his indifference towards the treatment of the droids that had served the Eternal Empire, of the pilots of the Fleet.. and of Scorpio who was so like the pilots but without their rigidly controlled programming, and Selirah's stories about the anger that Scorpio had harbored towards the people who had effectively enslaved her for centuries. “It's neither here nor there... we're here for Theron, not for droid's rights.” 

“Right, right. Eyes on the prize,” Lyorek agreed with obnoxious cheer. His red-gold gaze focused up ahead, and he moved forward more quickly. Selirah stood near a massively built pirate, his feet hauled up more than a foot and a half off the ground and his face turning red from lack of air. She held him in the grip of her power, her face full of rage, shaking him violently back and forth with sharp movements of her hand even though she wasn't touching him. 

Alyxia watched silently, her helmeted head turning slowly to keep an eye on the crowd and be sure that no one interfered. Onlookers had begun to gather already, but no one seemed inclined to help the struggling pirate hanging in midair. Arcann could feel her anger leaking through even the thinned channel of their bond, and he knew he didn't want to open himself to feeling the entirety of her fury. “Does he know something?” he interjected, risking her attention and receiving it almost instantly. Her eyes blazed, but they softened imperceptibly as her gaze focused on his face. 

“He asked if I was looking for... how did you put it again?” Her hand tightened cruelly, her expression hardening, and the man made a desperate, throttled whimper, his face starting to go purple. “That beaten up chap with the Sith in the mask? Wasn't that it?” She shook him roughly, and Arcann moved closer, resting his hand on her arm in a light touch. Selirah looked at his fingers on her dark armor, and her expression shifted slightly, losing the mad light in her lavender eyes. She lowered her hand, lowering her captive at the same time until his booted feet could touch the ground. “Tell me where they are.”

“They've gone! They left a little more than an hour ago. She gave me credits to watch for you. Watch for the red Twi'lek, she told me. Tell her what she wants to know, she told me. That's what I'm doing!” he answered frantically, his voice strangled and rough. “They were in that building, just back there. Through that door. I swear that's all I know. I wasn't involved, she just gave me credits.” He pointed hastily at a heavy metal door leading into a worn warehouse building.

Selirah stared at him for a long moment, and Arcann could almost feel her weighing her desire to take out her anger on the man with her need to get inside the building where Theron had been kept. But she moved away from him after a moment, heading for the door that Alyxia had already opened after checking for any obvious traps. The bounty hunter moved aside for her, and Selirah swept inside, her eyes struggling to adjust to the gloom in the interior. Arcann glanced at the abandoned pirate informant, telling him quietly to get out of here for his own good. Once the man had hastily staggered off into the maze of alleyways surrounding the road, the prince followed Seli and Alyxia inside. Lyorek lingered for a moment or two before going in after them all; he seemed reluctant to go in, and Arcann felt a twinge of unease at the attitude the brash Inquisitor offered.

The warehouse was cavernous and nearly empty, and in poor repair. Roofing panels had fallen in over the years, and empty shipping crates littered the floor. Selirah ranged back and forth for a time, like a hound searching for a scent. She stopped for a moment near a ramp to the second floor, and then was gone up the ramp so quickly that she was out of sight before any of them could catch up. Alyxia went after her, and Arcann and Lyorek brought up the rear. Lyo stopped by the post, his eyes catching the smear of blood on the surface, and he slowed down even further, letting Arcann get ahead of him. 

Arcann got to the top of the ramp and saw Alyxia standing in a doorway down the walkway. Her helmeted head turned towards him, and she shook her head at him, indicating that Theron wasn't here. It wasn't a surprise; they hadn't thought he would be. Cynera was not going to let her prize go so easily, and she had made that clear enough in their brief conversation. He felt a wave of pain and rage suddenly, and he staggered, one hand going up to his head as if to block out the sensation. Alyxia gave him a steadying hand, her armored form standing firm while he leaned against her, thinning the bond until he could deal with the battering, roiling wash of Selirah's emotions. Straightening, he went into the room, and then stopped only a few steps inside.

Selirah knelt in the middle of the room, but she was obviously unharmed and no one else was present. So at first, Arcann looked around, taking in the room itself. Chairs, a desk, a table, a bed. A familiar blaster lay on the desk next to a vibroknife. The blaster was sliced neatly into two pieces, the ends melted, and the obvious cause of death was certainly a lightsaber blade. A note printed on a sheet of flimsi lay stuffed under the two halves of the blaster, but he didn't read it or touch it. Instead, he crossed the room to Seli's side. There was more blood here, just starting to dry. It was smeared on the ground, and on the familiar red, black, and white jacket she held in her hands. It wasn't enough blood to indicate that Theron was dead, but it was still a worrying amount.

Arcann touched her shoulders, resting his hands there. He didn't try to get her to stand, or even speak to her; he just waited while she sat there with her lap full of Theron's jacket. He could still feel her emotions behind his own shields, but he let her have this time without listening in any more than he could help. When she finally got to her feet, she almost stumbled, her legs half-asleep from kneeling for so long in one position and her hands gripping the jacket with a white-knuckled strength. Arcann steadied her carefully, and Alyxia gathered the note and the two pieces of Theron's blaster. Selirah shrugged off the assistance after a moment, and Arcann let her, stepping back to follow her out of the room past the ominously silent Lyorek. 

Aboard the Fury again, she went into her chamber and sat on the bed, Theron's blood-splattered jacket bunched up on her lap. “Read it to me, Ar'eswo,” Selirah said finally, her eyes lifting to focus on him when he came into the room with the pieces of blaster and the vibroknife. He put them away in her storage locker, and sat at the chair near the desk. His eyes moved over the print quickly, and he glanced at her unhappily before he began to read aloud. 

“Empress Selirah. I regret greatly that we could not remain here to meet you, but Theron and I had another engagement that simply would not wait. I could tell you directly where we are headed, but that wouldn't be fun for me, and I'm afraid that's my driving motivation at the moment. I do think this is one of the places you would not think to look for me, at least, not initially. So I will say that I'll not be on a backwater neutral planet this time. You'll have to work a little harder to get to us and maybe, if you're -very- clever, you'll catch us before we've left there. It's possible that you wouldn't even think at all to look for me in the place I am taking Theron. He's never seen this world, or so he tells me, but I think he'll find it interesting.” Arcann paused, looking at the frozen expression on Selirah's face in concern, but after a moment, she waved her hand imperiously for him to continue. “We'll be quite comfortable there in the meantime, so you needn't rush on Theron's account. I hope you appreciate the trinkets that I left for you. He won't need any of them where we're going. Yours respectfully, Darth Cynera.”

Selirah sat silently for a few minutes, then spoke, almost more to herself than to Arcann. “Oricon.. perhaps. Dromund Kaas, Korriban.. Not Ziost. Of course, she could be lying, or Theron could have lied to her, but there's just no way to be certain. She wants to slow us down. So it will be somewhere I'll have to find a way to get clearance to land so I wouldn't be questioned, or have to fight my way through. No one is likely to care about my landing on Oricon. So Dromund Kaas or Korriban feel likely.” 

“Empire territory would make sense. I can't imagine how we'll get clearances, though, unless we approach Acina, and I am not sure she would give them, or be trustworthy even if she did.” Arcann rose and joined her on the bed, and she permitted it this time, letting him stroke a hand over her lekku, and drop a kiss on the crimson skin of her throat above the edge of her armor. Her shoulders drooped slowly, and she turned Theron's jacket around in her hands, her fingers brushing over the scrapes and marks, most old and some new. 

“She will kill him if she tires of her game, keella. She is capricious, even for a Sith, and I know enough about her to be wary of her intentions here. Theron is far from safe as long as he is in her hands, valuable though he is to her right now.” She stretched out slowly on the bed, closed her eyes, and sighed. 

Lyorek poked his head in a moment later, glancing at them both before he spoke up. “Where would you like us to go, back to Odessen, or do we have an idea of where they've gone?” Arcann got up and handed the Inquisitor the sheet of flimsi, letting him read the note. He re-read it several times, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. “Do you think it's an Empire world?”

“I think it's a good possibility. I don't think she'd risk a Republic world with the highly recognizable Theron Shan in tow, not yet, anyway.”

“She could just shove him in a storage crate.. but I think you're right. Just a moment, I've got an idea,” he announced, and vanished back into the body of the ship.

Arcann went back to her, stretching out behind her on the bed. He propped up his head with his cybernetic hand, using the other to hold Seli gently. Her grief and fear leaked through the bond between them, mingling with his own worry for Theron's safe return. The Fury launched under them, but once they were out in atmosphere, they could feel the ship settle into low power, drifting idly in orbit. Lyorek didn't return for one hour, then another, and Selirah finally went to sleep, Theron's jacket clutched firmly in her arms.

Carefully rising without waking her, Arcann left her room, closing the door behind him. Lyorek was standing in the main room, with Nox on the holo. 

“... We cannot abuse this offer. He is putting his neck on a block with Acina for us. Make sure that she understands that, because I doubt she is inclined to be cautious right now,” Nox was saying, her voice crisply unamused.

“I will impress upon her the importance of taking care, Nox. She is on edge right now, but I will speak with her.” 

“See that you do.” The holo went black after this final admonition from the small-statured Inquisitor, and Lyorek remained there a moment longer, gazing at the empty space that had contained Nox a moment earlier before acknowledging Arcann's presence by turning his attention to the prince. 

“I realized we did have an ally in Acina's government, earlier,” the Zabrak explained, leaning against the edge of the holoterminal. “Vowrawn is the only member of the Council still around, and luckily, he is greatly fond of both Nox and the Empress. Ours, that is.. I'm not entirely sure what his feelings are about Acina, but that's neither here nor there right now. He agreed to let us use his personal landing codes to circumvent questions about our presence. We will still need to be as circumspect as possible while on Sith Empire territory, of course... I will need you to help me impress the importance of that fact upon Selirah when we arrive.”

“I will talk to her. She wasn't in an unreasonable frame of mind, earlier, so hopefully she will be calm when she wakes. Let her sleep for now. Have Alyxia lay in a course for Korriban, and we'll test Vowrawn's offer and see if it's real.” Arcann started to head back to Seli's room, and paused, turning to add, “I'll have to stay behind, unless we can find a way to make me look more.. anonymous. I don't think I would be welcome there, after the last time I was planetside.”

“I'll see what I can find for you, because she won't let you stay behind. She's not going to let you out of her sight now, with Theron missing.”

“That was my feeling as well. Thank you, Lyorek, for the assistance, and for thinking of Vowrawn to help. We have to find Theron, and soon.”

“Yes, we do.” Sounding uncharacteristically serious, Lyorek made his way up the stairs to the bridge, and Arcann went back into the bedroom to catch some sleep himself as the ship made the jump to hyperspace, heading for Korriban.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, Vowrawn. I miss you. You should have come to the superior Empire. *sticks out her tongue at Acina*


	47. ... And Yet, So Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival on Korriban goes smoothly, but is one of the only things that does. Selirah faces some significant frustration. Lyorek faces the reality that he's always the scapegoat. Theron faces a major disappointment. 
> 
> Alyxia is generally untroubled by any of the events, as usual.

Korriban. Red, ancient, steeped in Sith tradition and the dark side. The last time he had been here, it'd been to destroy it, and in the process, he'd killed Darth Atroxa, a Lethan Twi'lek. Now he was stepping onto the red sand again, and at the side of another two alien Darths, one of which was a Lethan Twi'lek. The Scions no doubt would have said it was a cycle of fate, bringing him back here at Selirah's side, in search of one of the people who had helped unseat him from his throne. They would have had a lot to say about his entire trajectory ending here, if he hadn't killed them. His actions here had been egregious enough; Lyorek had disguised him entirely in Sith robes and armor, complete with a battle mask. 

Selirah had helped him dress along with Lyorek, and if he hadn't understood the seriousness of their current mission before, the complete and utter lack of salacious comments during the process from either of them would have made it clear to even the most stupid of individuals. They both had strapped the armor on him and arranged the robes without any snide flirtations or teasing remarks, their hands businesslike and quick. Selirah had only paused for a moment before she'd put the mask on, leaning in to kiss him fleetingly, murmuring in his scarred ear that she preferred being able to see all of his face. It felt strangely confining to be looking at the world from behind a mask again; even more because this mask covered everything. But it was safer to be anonymous, and even Lyorek and Selirah had donned heavy black robes to keep from drawing too much attention.

Alyxia was the only member of the party who hadn't changed anything, but the sight of a Mandalorian in full armor on Korriban, while unusual, wasn't worthy of note to the Sith that populated the Academy. Lyorek was taking the lead; the less that Selirah put herself forward to be paid attention to, the better. They'd even weighed the idea of dressing her as a slave to guarantee that no one would think she was anyone important. But Arcann had recoiled at the idea, and Seli hadn't seemed terribly excited about it either, so it'd been discarded in favor of simply seeming like a lesser Sith. Her power would be hard to conceal, if anyone was looking, but there was little they could do about that.

“Should split up.” Alyxia's terse comment came as they were disembarking. The hangar was mostly deserted, with only the normal amount of technicians and maintenance workers. “One Sith to each team. Might be better to have Arcann go with Lyo, though. Less attention their way. Just two Sith in a place filled with Sith.”

Selirah's expression set into stubborn lines, and she shook her head sharply. “No. He stays with me.” 

Arcann smiled, then realized she couldn't see his expression with the mask on, so he spoke up. “She's right, love. We need one person on each team who is familiar with the Academy, and no offense, Lyo, but she's also right that you're less likely to draw much attention.”

Lyorek chuckled, shrugging his shoulders lazily. “None taken.”

She frowned at Arcann, surrendering with ill-grace. “Fine. Lyorek...”

“I know the drill. You'll kill me in a horrifically messy, slow, and agonizing way if anything happens to him,” the Zabrak cut in unrepentantly. “Don't worry, I'll make sure I die first so I can't be blamed.”

“See that you do,” Selirah replied humorlessly. “Let's go. We need to make sure she's here, and find them before she has a chance to slip away again. You two, go to the Academy. We'll go to the tombs.” Her gaze touched on Arcann, and she shook her head. “It's so strange seeing you like this. Be careful, keella. I'd hate to kill Lyorek.” 

Arcann laughed, and Lyorek sighed expansively. “It's always 'kill Lyo', no matter what happens. I'm going to get a complex. Come on, let's leave the ladies to their dusty tombs, which.. for the record.. Nox asked me to be sure you -didn't- let Alyxia blow into smithereens. I think she still plans to run the Sith herself, someday.” The two robed men headed towards the Academy, and Alyxia fell in slightly behind Selirah as she took the path towards the Valley of the Dark Lords. 

**Somewhere in the Lower Wilds:**

High on the list of “Things that seemed like a good idea at the time”.. a long list, for Theron.. he would now have to add attempting to escape Darth Cynera. 

It wasn't that he wouldn't try again, if the option presented itself. But he might think a little harder next time about whether she had orchestrated the apparent opportunity out of some sadistic sense of humor, as she had this time. The Sith had pulled her guards, sending them to the Academy and elsewhere in search of Selirah or any of her people, which had given Theron a thread of hope that perhaps they were here on Korriban and looking for him. It'd left only her, and she seemed preoccupied, moving from room to room in the dusty, beast-infested tomb he'd been taken into, barely noticing him as she spoke to her team via communicator.

He'd had to almost dislocate his shoulder to get to the mechanism in the cuffs he was wearing, but he'd managed to short them out when she was pacing in another room, speaking to one of the guards. There was nothing to be done about the slave collar right now, but with any luck, she wouldn't even notice he was gone until he was far enough away to try to safely short it or remove it.

Waiting for her to be distracted enough had been nerve-wracking, but from what he could hear of her conversation, someone who could have been Selirah had been sighted by her guards. That meant she was here, at least, she was likely here.. how many Lethan Twi'lek could there be on Korriban? Somewhere deep inside, Theron felt a knot of fear ease. One that always thought this would be the time she wouldn't come for him, or would decide it wasn't worth the trouble, or that she was better off just with Arcann. He knew the thought was unfair and more to the point, completely unfounded; Seli had never been anything but clear that nothing would ever stop her from coming for him if he was in trouble, but some part of him always thought that he was too much trouble, too unimportant, that there was no reason for her to waste her time and effort chasing him down. Every time, she proved that voice wrong, and every time, it got a little smaller, and a little quieter. One of these days, it would disappear, and he'd stop thinking she was going to realize what a mistake she'd made getting involved with him.

Cynera had her back to the hall that his room was located on, her attention on a small portable screen and a datapad. Part of Theron wanted to see what information she was receiving, but with his implants fried and of course the Sith between him and the datapad, it wasn't really possible. So he took the opportunity and got to his feet painfully, keeping as quiet as he could as he stepped out of the room and into the crumbling stone hallway. He headed towards the way they'd come into the tomb, making several winding turns and picking up some speed as he went. The further away he could get from Cynera, the better his chances were of at least hiding until he could figure out if Selirah was here, and how to get to her. 

The brilliant sunlight lit the square doorway entrance of the tomb just ahead, and Theron could almost feel the light on his face. Seli was out there, somewhere, searching for him. When an invisible hand seized him, flinging him violently against the rough, broken stone of the wall, he barely had time to force his body to go limp before he smashed into the rock. 

Cynera's booted feet made little enough sound on the floor, but Theron could hear her approaching him. “I so wished that you would try to escape, Theron. I could feel your hope, the closer you got to the entrance, thinking that you would be free. That she would find you,” the Sith mused, her masked face empty of any clue to her state of mind. She bent down, lifting Theron to his feet with an odd degree of solicitude, as if she wasn't the reason he was on the ground, wheezing for breath. “I thought about letting you get outside, to raise your hopes even further. I wonder what it would have felt like to know she is out there somewhere, and that I will keep you from her yet again.” 

“You seem certain of that,” he managed, staggering a little before straightening. His ribs hurt on the left side, and without his jacket for more protection, he was collecting quite an array of scrapes, cuts, and bruises on his arms and face. “But I know that she will find you and kill you for this.”

She seized his shirt in a sudden grip, pulling him close to her masked face. “And I will rip you apart right in front of her. What pleasure is there in it for her then, if she's lost the very prize she was seeking in the moments before she got her revenge on me?” Her guards appeared in the entrance, and Theron realized that she'd played the entire scenario as a game. They'd been waiting outside, at least, these two had. All of it had been orchestrated to make him think he had some kind of chance at escape, just so she could yank the breath of freedom away from him at the last moment and crush his hopes of seeing Selirah. Anger rose in him like a tide, and she laughed suddenly, an authentic, full-throated, metallic sounding laugh from behind the featureless mask. “-There- you are. So much passion for that alien usurper, and so much rage right now at me for toying with you like the pawn that you are. Are you afraid she will tire of searching for you?”

“No. She will never stop trying to find me, no matter how long it takes.” Theron tried to calm himself, to conceal his emotions from her, but she looked into his face, and he could feel her prying into his thoughts, pushing her way in without any regard for him or his futile attempts to stop her with the techniques he'd learned years ago from Master Zho. Brutally but thankfully briefly, she violated his thoughts, and shook her head, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. 

“So much doubt. Is this what the Republic makes of its people? Of course, it could be what the Empire makes of its people too.. I wouldn't know. Sith are not like the rank and file,” Cynera observed coldly. Her hand slid higher, smoothing over Theron's chest slowly, making his skin crawl at the sudden, weirdly antiseptic intimacy of her touch. He twitched away from her, and she followed him like a cat stalking an injured animal. Her eyes, behind the dark holes in the mask, were a bright, predatory gold, but that was all that he could see of her features. “You are a handsome man, Theron. And the prince.. having seen him as well, I must admit that my rival has excellent taste in the people that she surrounds herself with. Prince Arcann has a truly impressive bloodline, and equally impressive power. Both very attractive traits. And you..” the Sith slipped her fingers higher, her gloved hand wrapping around Theron's throat in a threatening way. He stopped trying to evade her, and she chuckled softly. “You have an interesting bloodline too. But no power. I wonder what else you bring to the table.” The mask dipped downwards, as if she were looking him over from head to toe, assessing his worth on the physical plane. 

Then her hand closed, and instead of using the force to choke him into unconsciousness from a distance, she simply throttled him with her physical grip on his throat. Dark spots started to dance in front of his eyes, and Theron frantically lashed out at her in his panic, striking her full in the face and bruising his already battered knuckles on the hard metal of her mask. Cynera's head snapped back, but she just laughed again, and her free hand balled up into a fist and smashed across his temple. A flash of pain accompanied the force augmented blow, and he crumpled. She held him up by his throat for a moment, looking into his face thoughtfully, and then dropped him unceremoniously to the ground. “Pick him up,” she ordered the guard. “We need to prepare the shuttle. She will be here soon.”

**Korriban, approaching the Lower Wilds:**

Hours wasted, and all along, they had been out here, in the wind and canyons and swirling red sand. Alyxia had recalled Arcann and Lyorek from the Academy halls to the shuttle pad so that they could take a small taxi vehicle out to the more remote Wilds. One of the young acolytes there had been working on a dig in a nearby tomb, and mentioned the presence of a masked Sith Lord and her guard detail. He'd assumed they were searching for artifacts as well, and had known better than to question anyone so high above him. But the description was enough, and now they were moments away from Theron, and from Darth Cynera as well.

Selirah was beyond caution by the time they reached the gaping maw of the ancient tomb. Arcann kept pace with her, and Lyorek faded back into the shadows, concealing himself in case of any ambushes. The Twi'lek tore through the rooms, her saber alight, but one after another, they were all empty. She could see signs of habitation, boot marks in the dust, scuffs on the stone, and in one room, discarded chairs, tables, and a pair of shorted out manacles with some blood smeared on the inside edges. She started to pause there, to pick them up, but Alyxia suddenly turned, shooting out of the room at a run and out a half-hidden exit in the back. 

Startled, it took her a moment to realize what had precipitated the Mandalorian's disappearance. But then she heard it too, the rumble of a shuttle firing up outside. Selirah burst out into the hot Korriban air, skidding to a stop as she saw the shuttle starting to rise. The side panel was sliding closed even as she shielded her eyes with one hand to look up, and she could see Theron for a moment, unconscious and belted into a seat with guards on either side of him, before the door closed entirely and the shuttle fired thrust engines. Reaching out through the force, Selirah desperately tried to halt the shuttle, feeling it pull against her and continue to rise. She shouted in rage, forcing more power into the attempt. It bucked in midair, and she could hear the metal straining, the engines screaming as despite her hold, it pulled away, the nose lifting as it rose out of range, weakening her grip until she had to let it go. 

Arcann and Lyorek came out of the building in time to see the shuttle vanishing from view, and the prince caught Selirah as she sank down to the sand, kneeling with her. He held her, waving the other two away. “Go, use the clearance to get authorization to come here to pick her up.” Unspoken, but obvious, was the implication that Selirah would not thank them for being present for this moment of weakness if she realized they were watching her. Neither Alyxia nor Lyorek seemed inclined to want to stay with a furious, thwarted Sith either, so they took Arcann's suggestion and disappeared back into the tomb to head back towards the Academy.

Selirah's face crumpled into misery, and Arcann removed his mask, dropping it into the sand as he gathered the Twi'lek into his lap. She clung to his hand tightly, glancing up where the shuttle had disappeared several times, as if she was hoping it would be there, or come back. “I had him. For a moment, I had him. I couldn't stop the shuttle, keella,” she said finally after several minutes.

“It was too late to stop it, love. At least Theron knows we were here, coming for him. We'll get him next time.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head, feeling the sleek, smooth skin against the rough scars that marred his profile. Selirah nodded very slightly, just enough so that he could feel the motion. “He knows you came for him. And we know he's alive, and intact. We just need to find her again.”

“We have nothing to go on, this time. We're going to have to hope that her ego forces her to contact us again and I hate that we will have to sit on our hands and wait while she has Theron.”

“I hate it too. But I don't think she'll be able to stop herself from taunting you with him. She'll contact us.”

She nodded again, a small little motion. But he could feel her emotions rioting through their bond, and he knew that fear for Theron's safety was eating at her, as well as guilt at her failure to stop Cynera's escape with him. “We should take you back to Odessen while we wait for her to call, Ar'eswo... I don't think I can bear to have you at risk too right now.”

Arcann smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “No. We will find our Theron together, you and I. You are risking yourself, and you can't ask me to sit safely back on Odessen and wait to find out if you and Theron are alright. I'm going with you, no arguments.”

She sniffed audibly, but he knew better than to look down and see if it was tears or just the sand making her nose ticklish. The sand began to kick up even worse, the ship overhead coming in for a landing on the sand a short distance away. “Our ride's here.” Disentangling herself gently from Arcann's arms, she kissed him, and picked up his discarded mask from the sand. “Might need this yet.”

“We'll find him, Seli.”

Selirah glanced at him as she headed towards the ship. “I am trying to believe that, keella. I really am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say about this week is "Is it over yet?"
> 
> I need more coffee. And more hours in the day.
> 
> I'm not ready for the Iokath update! I had intended to be further along by then. ;) Oh well. If I missed any typos/errors, I'll get them tomorrow when I wake up, cause it's 5 am. *laughs*


	48. Welcome To The Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron explores his new surroundings, and finds himself in a tense situation between two Sith.

**Dromund Kaas:**

Theron woke sluggishly, his head pounding. Taking stock of his injuries, he assessed the left ribs as the most acute. Definitely fractured, they hurt with a consistent, dull, stabbing pain. The rest were mostly bruising, scrapes, cuts, and contusions. Nothing else seemed broken, and so he slowly looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. Floor to ceiling windows broke up one wall, looking out on a grey sky over tree-covered hills. Rain streaked the windows, and he knew that they were no longer on Korriban, though he wasn't quite sure where they were yet from the vista he could see from his bed. 

He sat up slowly once he knew he was alone, the small room furnished comfortably, even a little bit lavishly, with expensive appointments and furniture. A painting hung on the far wall, and he did recognize the subject as Tattooine. An Empire banner hung above the bed he had slept in, and while it wasn't a large bed like he was accustomed to at home on Odessen, it was comfortable, with fine sheets and blankets. Despite the expensive furniture and linens, there was an air of disuse about the room, as if it had been untouched for a long time and just lightly freshened up for his use. 

Walking to the windows, Theron looked out and saw the city laying below and off to the side, away from the forest view he'd seen from the other side of the room. The buildings were dark, jagged, imposing things, tall and ominous. Now he knew where he was, and he felt his curiosity well up, wondering how someone who clearly hated Empress Acina had come to the very seat of her power, but it made sense that if Selirah had found a way to get onto Korriban without setting off alarm bells with her presence, Darth Cynera probably had similar cards to play when necessary. 

He circled his room, examining all the furniture, the artwork.. nothing about the room was particularly singular or personalized. It was likely a guest room or a chamber not often used, perhaps for staff or guards. It took him a few moments to realize that the slave collar that Cynera had put on him in the first moments after capturing him was missing from his neck, but once he did, he wondered how he hadn't missed the weight of it immediately. 

The door wouldn't open at his approach or when he tried palming the lock, but that wasn't surprising. She wouldn't have allowed him to simply wander around the premises. He wouldn't have allowed himself to either, in her position. Even with his implants fried, he could be quite a lot of trouble in such a clearly highly automated residence. Through the glass in the door, he could see several high tech terminals in the round antechamber outside his bedroom, and from the size of the room, he assumed there were probably several more bedchambers on either side of his room, though he couldn't see the doors beyond several large, well-tended potted trees situated to either side of the door opening to his own room. More large paintings adorned the walls outside, and through the door opposite his own, he could see a huge room beyond, with lounge arrangements, tables and chairs, and a vast wall of windows that looked out upon the city itself. Yet again, he found himself wondering about whose home this was.. Cynera's? Someone important in Acina's government that owed the sadistic Darth a favor?

Time slid slowly by, and Theron tired of pacing the confines of his chamber. There was nothing in the room that he could do much with to effect an escape, and he'd examined the lock minutely and given up the idea that cracking into it would do much good. Even if he could get out of this room, he'd just be in another room he'd have to break out of, and then possibly yet another. And for all he knew there was surveillance on him even now. After an hour or two, he'd laid back down, resting his cracked ribs and aching body, intending just to lay there for a little while and then get up again, but instead, he drifted off to a fitful sleep.

When he opened his eyes again later, it was dark outside. He got up again, pacing in front of the windows. The door slid open behind him, and he turned around to find one of the guards beckoning him out of the room. He was led through the circular antechamber, and was gratified to see that he'd been correct.. there were two more bedrooms attached, one on either side of his room. They passed into the large recreational room beyond, and he looked around, taking in the Skytrooper chassis on display, and the large artwork images of Alderaan and Rishi. Something about the decorations felt familiar, but he didn't have time to try to work it out. Darth Cynera was sitting on one of the couches near the window, next to a tall, handsome Sith lord with dark hair and clear green eyes. Theron heard the man mention something about probes and exploration before Cynera's masked face turned towards him and she held up a quelling hand to her companion. 

“Forgive the interruption, but my guest is here,” she said calmly, her metallic voice pitched to reach Theron's ears as he approached, as well as the man on the couch. “Darth Seryan, who faithfully serves Empress Acina and the Sith Empire. Theron Shan, son of the former Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, Satele Shan and consort of Empress Selirah of the Eternal Alliance.” Cynera sat back comfortably, her attention shifting to her companion's astonished face with evident pleasure, even though her face was hidden from view as always. “Do join us, Theron. I'm certain Seryan would be most intrigued with you.”

“I can't imagine that I have much of a choice,” Theron replied acidly, and the guard prodded him sharply in the back with the tip of his rifle, making him wince in pain as his injured ribs shifted with the pressure, causing a stab of agony to shiver through his body. He circled around the lounge and sat down as far from both Sith as he possibly could while still obeying Cynera's 'invitation'. “Whose home is this?”

Seryan and Cynera exchanged a weighted look, and it was Seryan who answered after a moment. “A former denizen of the Empire, actually.. the apartment has been unoccupied for years and Cynera cleverly discovered it after extensive research. It took some work to get past the security systems, but... here we are. I trust you've found it comfortable?”

“The room was more than adequate for my needs, yes.” Theron glanced between the two, preferring to look at the attractive visage of Seryan to the coldly emotionless mask Cynera wore. “If slightly less than what I am accustomed to now, obviously.”

Cynera barked a laugh, stretching her arm out along the back of the couch as she leaned back more comfortably, her golden gaze fixed on Theron's bruised face. “I'm sure. I'm afraid I don't have the resources that Zakuul does, presently. But no doubt you are used to being kept in very comfortable surroundings by your devoted Empress. She must be missing you terribly right now, don't you think?” 

The malice in her voice was unmistakable, but Theron didn't rise to the bait. He'd learned quickly that the momentary satisfaction of being snide with his captor often resulted in retaliation, and until he knew where the other Sith stood on his captivity, he didn't want to try to weigh in on the odds of his interference if Cynera decided to put him through a wall face first. “She has plenty to do with her own Empire to run,” he replied blandly.

“So she does. Perhaps she will forget about you, and leave you with me. I wonder what your illustrious mother would do to get you back on her side of the galaxy? Perhaps nothing.”

Seryan spoke up, his voice low and amused. “Jedi are bloodless, passionless creatures. You'll get nothing out of her, not even the pleasure of her distress, Cynera. Better to keep taunting the former Wrath if you want a response, though I question the wisdom of that course of action as well. You may reap more than you hoped for from that.” Green eyes, long-lashed and curious, focused on Theron. The Sith didn't give him the same head to toe invasive stare that Cynera liked to do to unbalance him, but Theron still felt assessed by the other man's bemused gaze. “She wants him back badly enough to show up herself. Either she's just very possessive of her belongings, or she fancies herself in love with him.”

“She almost dragged the shuttle right out of the sky on Korriban. She definitely loves him,” Cynera observed dryly, and Seryan laughed, his attention remaining on Theron, as if he was curious to see what was worthy of such attention from a Sith. “I'm not convinced yet that he wouldn't be more of a goad to her if he was dead, though. Imagine her torment then.” 

Theron looked at Cynera sharply, but there was nothing to be read from her masked face, and the chilling calm in her voice was no kind of comfort. She hadn't sounded like she was merely trying to provoke him, or make him scared. She just sounded bored. Like she was airing out all the possible ideas. 

Seryan's gaze left Theron, moving to the rain-streaked windows and the view beyond them of the dark towers that made up Kaas City. “She would bomb us all into oblivion with that fleet of hers, and while you may not care if you live or die, Cynera.. I certainly do,” he replied, his tone mild. Cynera laughed, watching Theron's wide-eyed expression as he listened to them. 

“Do you think she would send the fleet to kill us all, Theron? If I tortured you and murdered you? If I sent her parts of you? I have considered it. You could lose a few pieces before you stopped being so pretty, after all.”

Unable to conceal the shudder of disgust at her words, Theron forced out a response, knowing she could sense his revulsion and anger both. “Perhaps. I'm not going to pretend to know how her mind works, or what she would choose to do if you killed me. But it wouldn't cripple her, or stop her from finding you and destroying you. Whether or not you'd cause full-scale war.. that's her decision. She is the Empress, she commands the fleet and the armies.” 

“Don't indulge yourself foolishly, Cynera. This is not just jockeying for position among other Sith. You've picked a fight with a powerful enemy. I was willing to help you land here and keep your presence secret, but I'm not going down with you if you provoke outright war.” Seryan beckoned to the serving droid, waiting for it to bring him another drink before he spoke again, sipping the glass of wine appreciatively. “Play your games if you want, but don't drag the Sith Empire into your power play. I have no doubt she'll kill you if she finds you. And if you kill her consort,” he eyed Theron briefly, gesturing with one hand at him, “she will never stop until she finds you. What is your endgame plan on this? Because it looks like death, or death. Give him back to her.”

The masked Sith surged to her feet, her fury rolling out around her in a nearly palpable miasma. Her gold eyes fixed on Theron balefully, and he shot away from her hastily, going over the back of the couch and putting it between himself and her. She circled it; he went the opposite direction, keeping the barrier of the couch between them, his back to the huge windows. “I will not give him back to her,” she snarled, and to Theron's dismay, the other Sith held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, clearly disinterested in pressing his ideas when faced with her sudden, volatile rage. “The Council never listened to my ideas the way they did hers. They all bowed to her, scraped... the rest of us got scraps while she was covered in glory. An -alien-,” Cynera said sneeringly. She held still for a moment, and her eyes never left Theron. He felt trapped, helpless. He knew what she could do, how fast force-users could move when they wanted to, and how impossibly strong they could be. She would tire of letting him evade her soon. “She didn't deserve all the power that she was given. She doesn't deserve everything she has now. Somehow, she's come back from certain death in the Eternal Empire to rule it, with the son of the Emperor and the son of the Jedi Grandmaster both serving her?”

Theron didn't even see her move, it happened so fast. She slammed into him, and he smashed into the windows violently, pinned there by her left hand on his throat. He shook off the disorientation, tasting blood in his mouth from biting his tongue at the impact, and slowly realized he could feel her lightsaber hilt pressed against his stomach. It had two sharp points projecting from it, and they sank further and further in against him, painfully starting to puncture his skin as he tried desperately to squirm out of her grip. He could see Seryan watching from the other couch, but he hadn't interfered yet, and Theron knew he'd better not hope that the other Sith would decide to help him. 

“I should cut you open,” she whispered to him, the metallic sound of her voice eerie, the mask close to his face, almost against his ear. “Take a nice piece right out of the middle to send to your Empress. Do you think she would still love you then?” He could see her mad eyes staring at him from inside of it, and he closed his eyes to escape the look she was giving him. But he couldn't escape the sharpened prongs of her saber hilt, and they bit into his skin, slicing him open just above the hip, skewering him agonizingly. Theron bit back a cry of pain, unable to even struggle now without risking further damage, or worse, risking her igniting the saber and letting it simply burn straight through him. 

An invisible hand picked him up suddenly, jerking him off the sharp points of her saber and flinging him across the room. Theron hit the floor on his back, skidding across the ground till he fetched up against the wall with a solid thud. He lay there, confused. Had Cynera done it? But when he managed to lift his head to look towards the Sith, he saw Seryan standing between him and Cynera. He had his saber in his hand, and as Theron watched, he saw him ignite the blade in a flash of dark crimson. Cynera still hadn't activated her own, but he could see her looking from Seryan to Theron and back again, weighing her options.

“Keep him if you wish,” Seryan told her coolly. “But if you are going to cut him apart or kill him, I'm going to tell Acina what you're up to here, and let her deal with you. I'll survive her anger, most likely. You.. would not.” The masked Sith glared at him furiously, but after a moment, she hooked her saber hilt to her belt again, putting her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “I'm not having Dromund Kaas blown apart because of your xenophobia, or your jealousy, Cyn.” 

“Yes, yes. Fine. Once I get him off this planet, though.. I'll do as I like.”

“If you take him somewhere else, yes. Not one of our planets. If you want to get the Republic blown up, I'm completely supportive,” he replied with dry humor, deactivating his saber and fastening it to his belt. “Just not here. No cutting him up, and no killing him, Cyn. I mean it.”

“I hear you, Seryan.” She sank back onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other, as calm now as she'd been crazed mere moments ago. 

Seryan crossed the room to Theron and bent to offer him a hand. Hesitating, Theron took the offered assistance, and let the taller man lift him to his feet carefully. “I'm going to take him to his room, Cyn. Why don't you set the droid to making some dinner for us, and a tray for your captive. Won't do to starve him to death either.”

Cynera waved an indifferent hand, but by the time they passed through the door on the far side of the room, she was giving orders to one of the service droids. “You threw me across the room, didn't you? I thought it was her, at first,” Theron said quietly as the door hissed closed behind them. The Sith glanced at him, a half-smile curving his lips. 

“I wasn't sure she would stop herself if I didn't get you away from her. I apologize for the abruptness of it, but I couldn't afford to be more careful.”

Theron went into his room, one arm wrapped around his injured ribs, the dull throbbing sending waves of pain through him. He sat down on the end of the bed, looking up at the other man. “I thought she was going to kill me this time, so.. thank you. I don't care why you did it. I'm just glad that you did.”

“I remember Selirah. Not well, but.. I remember her. Very powerful. Very driven. Focused. Brutal sometimes. Perhaps that's changed.. perhaps not. But I want you to understand that the Sith Empire doesn't want to jeopardize her regard for our Empress. My sister..”

“She's your -sister-?” Theron interjected incredulously, and Seryan laughed in response. 

“Yes. My sister, she is old fashioned in her views. Acina, and many others, have grown to realize that we cannot afford to disregard the powerful, wherever we may find them. Old habits die hard, though. I can't help you further, except to say that I think your Empress' contacts are more powerful than my sister's, and she will likely find you soon. I will not interfere, when she does. Cynera's chosen her path and I can't do anything more than what I have.” He glanced down at Theron and chuckled. “Perhaps one more thing.” 

Sith healing was not an experience to recommend. It hurt, agonizingly so, burning through his body like a fire. But the moment Seryan took his hands away, Theron was relieved to find that he could take a deep breath again without any stabbing pain, and that his bruises and cuts had been healed as well. “Thank you, again. I will convey your wishes to Selirah when I see her again, provided that I -do- see her again, of course.”

“Of course. But while you are here, I think she will restrain herself.” Seryan offered a small nod in farewell, and left through the door, heading back to meet with his sister. A tray arrived a few minutes later, with food and drinks for him, and Theron ate gratefully, realizing quickly that he was starving and that it'd been well over a day since he'd eaten last. 

When he checked it later, the door was locked, unsurprisingly. But no one troubled him for the rest of the night, and he slept better than he had since he'd left Odessen.

Hopefully Selirah would find him soon. Before Cynera took him off-planet and his safety net disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My kid is a wonderful little human being. Who brings me horrible, horrible viruses. ;) *coughs* Man this winter has been the -worst- for nasty colds. 
> 
> No rescue for our Theron this time, but I wanted a little bit from his POV. :)


	49. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and company arrive on Dromund Kaas, and Theron does his best to avoid trouble but it finds him anyway.
> 
> Trigger warning for non-consentual/drugged sexual assault.

**The Fury:**

She hadn't slept in days. Not even a little. A combination of seething frustration, rage, and stim abuse had kept Selirah running until even Alyxia had take herself off to bed, and left the Empress to fly her own ship. When they'd finally gotten some information via back-channel gossip in the Sith Empire, only Selirah had been awake to even receive it. The other three had slowly dropped off and were sleeping exhaustedly in the crew quarters in the case of Alyxia and Lyorek, and in Arcann's case, in her bed. But she had no interest in sleeping. Theron was out there, and until she had him back, nothing else could intrude into her single-minded pursuit of his captor. 

Vowrawn had been cagey about where he'd gotten his information, and she'd been disinterested in pursuing the news about Theron's presence on Dromund Kaas other than the knowledge that he was being kept, in an ironic but surely intentional twist, in her own penthouse apartment, dormant these long years since the incident on Darth Marr's flagship and her subsequent incarceration in carbonite. A twinge of curiosity had broken through her thoughts for a moment; what did the place look like now? Had it just remained a museum, untouched all this time, until Cynera had discovered that she owned it and hatched her plan to keep Theron there? Did Theron even know where he was? He'd never seen her place there.. there'd never been an opportunity to take him there, and she'd only spent sporadic time there anyway since … since Quinn. She'd loved the place so much, back then. They both had. Her first real home, this huge, luxurious apartment that they'd furnished together, decorated together. It'd felt wrong to be there, after they'd split up and gone their separate ways, and she'd given up on ever reclaiming it once things had gone so completely sideways and she'd ended up where she was now. It wasn't as if it was a downgrade, becoming an Empress on Zakuul and Odessen and a myriad of other planets in the systems she controlled. But a part of her still missed her first home and all the memories it had once contained of happy times.

And now, Theron was there. He was so close. 

The Fury's engines responded as if the ship understood the urgency that its mistress felt, propelling them towards her former home at a blistering rate of speed. Tora's improvements had made a vast difference in the speed and handling of the Interceptor, and Scorpio's deceptive mind had made targeting and power exponentially stronger as well, before her defection and return to Iokath. She'd barely thought about the automated planet for months now... were they still locked out of it from the blast, or would it finally be safe to begin to explore its mysteries, now...? 

The thought drifted away, pushed out of Selirah's mind as the Fury dropped out of hyperspace in Dromund Kaas' orbit. Feeling the edge of alertness starting to grow fuzzy, she injected herself with another stim, uncaring that she'd been overlapping doses for a while now. It wouldn't be much longer. She just had to keep going for long enough to bring Theron back to the ship safely, and then she could sleep. Her hands shook a little as she guided the ship down towards the surface, and she felt excited, anticipatory, jittery. Just a short time longer. That's all. She could hang on for that long.

**Selirah's Penthouse, Kaas City:**

The guards prodded him awake, allowing him a few moments to wash up before they led him out into the main lounge of the house. Theron had very little time to look around; this was the only other room he'd really been in, besides his own. The guards had orders to bring him somewhere else, clearly, because they led him into a stairwell that curved downwards to the main floor, and a long hallway. At one end was a vehicle storage area of some sort; he could see various speeders and larger vehicles lining the walls inside, as well as a maintenance computer and work benches. The other end of the hall held a more intimate, smaller lounge area, richly appointed, with a bank of windows. 

But the guards stopped before another door along the length of the hallway that opened onto what appeared to be a suite. The bed inside was on the far wall, large and finely dressed in a heavy silk coverlet in rich black over cream sheets and pillowcases. The very fact that a bed was in the room at all made Theron's trouble meter ratchet the warning level up to ten, and he balked at the doorway. The guards shoved him unceremoniously into the room, and the door slid shut behind him, locking him inside. 

The walls of this room were decorated with elegant paintings, much like the rest of the home. Alderaan, Korriban, and one depiction of the destruction of the Jedi Temple that hung over a massive fireplace on the near wall. A fabric-draped couch sat before the fireplace, and Theron picked up a heavy signet ring that lay on the mantle, examining it curiously. Selirah had told him once of her instructor, Overseer Tremel from the Academy, and how she had circumvented Baras' attempt to make her kill him. She'd told him about the ring from his severed hand, and how Baras had given it to her, pleased with her obedience to his ruthless command. She'd kept the ring, she said, to remember that loyalty had value, and a price. He could be wrong but.. this looked just like the ring that she'd described.

The paintings, of Korriban. Of the destroyed Temple. Of Alderaan, her favorite place. The planetary displays, again, of Alderaan. The signet ring. The books on Sith warfare tactics. Obscure lightsaber forms. And that painting, there.. caves, and Twi'lek people. Ryloth. 

The door opened, but he didn't turn around, still looking at the picture of Ryloth. “Figured it out, did you?” Cynera sounded amused, and oddly.. normal. “It struck me as fitting, to take you here to her own former home.” Theron glanced over his shoulder, then turned to face the Sith. She had left off the mask, and he could see the similarities in her face to her brother Seryan, though her yellow eyes made harsh the features that on him were handsome. Dark hair was caught back in a tight knot at the nape of her neck, bound with silver pins. A deep scar marred the left side of her face, from her cheekbone, down over her jaw, and down the side of her throat; the wound looked as if it should have killed her. “I am not as beautiful as your Empress, I know. Twi'leks make valuable slaves and dancers because of their looks, and had she not had her power, she'd be someone's very expensive property even now, I'm sure. You would never have met her. And I would have climbed further than I likely ever will now.” A sharp thread of bitterness flavored her words, and she came closer to him, circling him slowly. That mad glint in her eyes returned, and Theron glanced at the door, hoping against hope that it would open and give him a way to escape Cynera's jealous hatred. 

“Every one of us has scars, Darth Cynera,” he said carefully, letting her circle him before moving to the side, heading across the room as if he were merely examining the furnishings and personal items that made this room Selirah's. “Selirah has no small amount of them herself. They're part of living and surviving in this galaxy.” 

She paused in her restless movement, nodding her head slowly in agreement. “That is true. I have survived things that should have been the end of me. And you have survived me, so far, haven't you? Very clever. You are trying to keep me distracted, aren't you?”

“I could hardly be expected to admit to that.” 

Cynera chuckled. “True again. Do you think she is coming? That she'll cut down this door any moment? Maybe she will. Maybe I'll kill you while she's doing it.” 

“You would bury your brother with you, if you did. Regardless of how much you hate Selirah, I don't think you want to do that to him.” Theron edged carefully around an elegant table set in the midst of a small seating arrangement, keeping the furniture between himself and Cynera, though he knew it'd be a small deterrent to her if she chose to go for him. “She didn't become Empress to spite you, or to hold you back. It was the path she ended up on, through no fault of her own. Don't you think perhaps your anger is a little misplaced?”

“I don't care. She has everything, and it is our way to take what others have. You should know that. She saw you, wanted you.. and you are hers. I doubt you're the only one, either. Sith are notorious in their appetites, and powerful Sith do whatever they wish, with whomever they wish.” Cynera paused near the fireplace, her yellow eyes reflecting the warm glow of the flames within. “Your Empress cut quite a swath through Kaas City whenever she was here. She was always fond of military men, even before she left that pretty husband of hers. That strapping fellow in her crew.. I heard she was seen with him, too.”

“That was a long time ago,” Theron replied, rolling his eyes. “Do you think I am going to be jealous over affairs from years ago?”

“Perhaps not. She certainly trained that husband of hers to know his place. She's had time enough to teach you the same lesson. Have a drink, Theron. We need not always be at odds. It's a very nice wine from her own stores and I had it opened a while ago... it should be quite perfect now.” She gestured at the wine glasses and decanter on the table near Theron's spot in the room, and he glanced at it cautiously.

“I'm not thirsty.”

“Come now.. be civilized,” Cynera chided him, ignoring the amused sound he made at the implication that -he- was somehow the uncivilized one of the two of them. She crossed to the table slowly and handed him one of the filled glasses, taking the other for herself and eyeing him over the rim as she took a drink. “You see? It's fine. Drink.” A hint of impatience came into her voice, and Theron sighed, taking a polite sip. The wine -was- incredibly good. Sweet and tart both, it exploded on his tongue, and he arched his brows in surprise, taking a deeper draught. “Can't afford anything like that on SIS pay, I'm sure, and Selirah hasn't had much time to gather a new wine cellar while conquering the galaxy, I suppose.”

“That's true enough, though the Spire has some very fine wines...” Theron caught himself mid-pleasantry and shook his head. “I'm not going to just gossip with you as if you weren't holding me prisoner, Darth Cynera. Just let me go. You know she'll come here, and she'll kill you if she finds you here. This is your opportunity. Leave me here, and go. I'll convince her that it's not worth it to chase you down.. once she has me back with her, I doubt it will matter nearly as much to her as it did before.” 

She sat down in one of the plush chairs, watching him as she sipped her wine, a faint smile curving her lips. The expression pulled at the deep scar, and he wondered idly if it still hurt, extensive as it was. Arcann sometimes had some pain around his jaw and shoulder, where the damage had been worst and the scars were the thickest, and he knew Selirah also ached sometimes around some of her worst injuries. It struck him suddenly that these were odd thoughts to be having at such a time, when he was trapped in a room with a woman who very much wanted to torture and kill him for pleasure; and then he realized he felt more than a little bit confused, and fuzzy-headed as well. His thoughts spun wildly from one subject to another, and his eyes grew unfocused. Theron stumbled, grabbing the back of the loveseat for balance, and Cynera rose, deftly plucking the wine glass from his fingers before it fell to the floor and shattered. “I wasn't sure how it would take you,” she said quietly, bemused. “But you will be so much more tractable now, won't you, Theron? Do you miss Selirah? Think about her.”

He did miss Selirah. She was so beautiful, her crimson skin marked with the sharp-lined black Sith tattoos. At first he had thought them strange, and then exotic, but now.. now he thought them incredibly attractive, an indivisible part of her own particular charm and style. The way she fought, the way she protected those she considered her own, the way she sang and danced when she was happy; Seli was graceful, powerful, passionate, strong, affectionate, funny, and so determined... he loved her. Theron's head pounded, and he was grateful for the helping hand that led him over to the bed, laying him back on the silk coverlet. He could feel her taking his boots off, then removing his shirt, tugging it up over his head, and he lifted his arms obligingly before thinking to wonder why he needed to have any of those things off at all. 

It was so hard to think clearly... trying just made the headache even worse. The cool touch of the air against his skin felt good, though, eased the fog in his thoughts, and the warmth flooding his limbs. He could feel the touch of someone's body against his, thighs straddling his hips, and he closed his eyes, still thinking of Selirah.

**Penthouse Landing Pad:**

Outside over the rain-soaked landing pad, the Fury hovered a short distance above. The pad was too small for the ship to touch down completely. A shuttle would have fit, but the Interceptor was simply too large. Alyxia came into the bridge, helmetless and yawning, but at the realization of where they were, given the grey clouds and black buildings visible outside the windows, the bounty hunter came alert quickly. She exchanged places with Selirah and took the controls, holding the ship in position expertly. “Stay as close as you can.. we may need to exit in a hurry,” Selirah said, her words coming quickly, with nervous energy suffusing every syllable. The Twi'lek looked exhausted and almost twitchy, her hands shaking a little bit under Alyxia's gaze, but the red-haired Mandalorian wisely said nothing about the obvious stim abuse signs. She knew better than to try to interfere in Sith business, and this was entirely Selirah's business. 

Arcann startled awake when Selirah shook his right shoulder, her wide lavender eyes gazing down at him. “It's time.. we have to go get Theron. He's here, and we have to hurry.” Her emotions were impossible for him to read, spinning in a hectic, frantic way as he got dressed. She hovered near the door, fairly vibrating with the anticipation of seeing Theron, and of finally facing the woman who had taken him from her. Lyorek joined them as they left her room, and the three of them dropped down from the ship to the landing pad, using the force to slow their fall. 

Neither of them could instill caution in her, not with Theron within reach. She keyed the locks open impatiently, the old codes working as if she'd left the house yesterday and not over six years ago. Arcann barely saw the lightsaber leave her fingers, the arc it described through the lounge room a perfect parabola, lit with purple light and sparks when it struck the two astonished guards before they could even move to try to flee or evade the deadly blade. Recalled to her hand like a hound to a beloved master, the blade cast a lurid reflection over her dark armor, humming in the large room. Lyorek had not even ignited his own dual blade, yet, but Arcann knew he had more to defend himself than the saber he carried at his waist. He'd seen the Inquisitor's lightning crackling into enemies, lifting them off their feet and pinning them to walls, jerking and screaming; he had no concern that the Zabrak was defenseless, or unable to protect Selirah, if the need arose.

They followed her through the apartment, but she wasted no time, as if something was calling to her down on the lower level. In the hallway below, she paused before a closed door, one hand held up. “Lyorek, find any remaining guards and dispatch them,” she told him quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The Inquisitor nodded, disappearing back the way they'd come to search all the rooms. “Stay with me, keella. Keep him safe for me. No matter what, protect Theron first.” 

“I'll keep him safe, love.” Arcann nodded his understanding, feeling her erratic thoughts start to settle into one focused path through their bond with each other, her frustration and rage flooding his mind. She keyed open the door, her power rolling through in front of her. The scene in the room inflamed her fury to new heights; Theron pinned to the bed, half-dressed and half-conscious at best, and Cynera astride his hips with her hands all over him, her black hair loosened and spilling across the tanned expanse of the agent's bare chest. Selirah flung the other woman off him with an almost negligent swat of power, slamming Cynera against the windows with enough violence to make the transparisteel groan audibly at the impact, though it didn't bend. 

Arcann could feel her yearning to go to Theron, but he reached him first, lifting the other man with a grunt of effort. Theron said something incoherent, his body limp and heavy in the prince's grip as he carried him from the room, taking him into the hall. Lyorek reappeared after a few moments as the sounds of battle came from the bedroom, and Arcann struggled with the desire to hand Theron over to Lyorek instead of taking care of him despite his promise. Every fiber of his being wanted to be in that room with Selirah, but he had told her he would keep Theron safe, and she would not thank him for going back on his word when she came out of her battle frenzy to find him at her side instead of Theron's. “Help her,” he ground out with ill-grace to the Zabrak, who gave him a slyly amused smile before disappearing into the room, his dual saber lit and humming in anticipation of battle. There were neatly dismembered guard bodies sprawled all the way back to the shuttle pad.. it almost looked like the Inquisitor had lured them all out into the lounge area just so he could kill them in decorative patterns. And knowing Lyorek, that was probably almost exactly what he'd done. Theron was barely alert at all at this point, dead weight over Arcann's good shoulder, so he headed out to the landing pad to get him safely aboard the Fury.

Cynera pulled a vase off a table, flinging it at Selirah in an attempt to distract her enough to make her let go. It struck her shoulder, glancing off, and the Twi'lek cursed, her fingers tightening. Her air began to restrict, and Cynera dragged a larger vase off the floor near the fireplace, striking her attacker in the back of the knees. Selirah staggered and lost control of her grip on the other Sith, letting her fall to the floor as she regained her balance. Cynera leapt towards her, both sabers glowing bright red, and Selirah fell back, ceding some ground in order to assess the other woman's fighting skill. She defended herself, blocking the aggressive attacks as Cynera drove her around the room, watching the other Sith's expression grow more impatient and angry. 

“You are not hearing lessons, Twi'lek,” the taller woman spat furiously, one blade sweeping at Selirah's legs only to find air as the Empress dove over it, coming up with the windows at her back. Cynera attacked again, and again, but Selirah kept blocking her, watching her coldly. “You will have to fight back if you think to punish me for taking your toy away from you.”

“You kept him from me for a time, but you do not have him now, do you?” Selirah taunted, a small, nasty smile curving her lips. “He is mine, and you have.. nothing, not even a chance of taking anything from me again.”

“I should have killed him and left his body all over this apartment. I wish I'd killed him when I first took him from you. But I know he'll remember me after our time together.” She drove Selirah back, and back again, but when the Twi'lek used the force to propel herself in a graceful jump over Cynera's head, she was too slow to turn, and felt the sudden agony of a cut across her lower back, burning through her light armor and into flesh. Stumbling forward, she spun away from Seli's second attack, the blade passing through the space where she'd stood a mere second before. Something shimmered in her peripheral vision, and she started to turn only to be forced to bring up both blades to stop an overhand attack from Selirah, the red blades crossed, holding back the purple from her face, from cutting her in half. Cynera felt something hard press against her back, just above the plasma burn from Selirah's saber. The sound of a deactivating stealth generator came just as a blade ignited through her body, burning through her belly, the blade held by a tall Zabrak in a black robe. 

“Too late now for regrets,” Lyorek said in her ear, his voice low and amused. He ripped the blade to the side, burning it through her flesh and making her scream in pain, dropping to the floor on her hands and knees. One hand went to her side, but she couldn't begin to even touch the cauterized, stinking burn. Cynera didn't even look up as Selirah's blade flashed down, separating her head from her shoulders with brutal precision. 

Stepping back, Lyorek deactivated his own blades, holding the hilt lightly in one hand. Selirah glanced at him, and he stayed still, seeing the rage glowing in her eyes still unbanked, not wanting to provoke her. It took her a moment or two, but once it was clear that it was over, that Cynera was dead, her expression changed, easing from the intensity of battle fury to sink into lines of exhaustion. Her hands shook so badly that Lyorek had to help clip her saber hilt to her belt, but she bent and picked up the other Sith's fallen saber, tucking it into her belt at her hip. “Go to the ship, Lyorek. I'll be there in a few minutes. I just want to take a few things... I'll probably never have any reason to come back here again.”

She drifted through the house, tucking things into a small, battered pack that she'd fetched from a storage locker. A pair of bottles of Alderaanian wine, covered in dust. Some old, well-worn datapads. Tremel's signet ring. Her books on combat and Sith history. A holoportrait of her and her crew drunkenly celebrating in a Kaas City bar after her ascension to the position of Wrath; with Pierce's arm slung around her shoulders while she kissed Quinn's cheek and he held her hand, Jaesa and Vette whistling at an attractive male attendant serving the table, Broonmark looming over them all. 

Arcann was waiting for her, pulling her up easily onto the ship while Alyxia hovered it as near to the landing pad as she could. “Theron is in the medical bay. Lyorek is checking him out, but he's going to be asleep for a while. There's time for you to sleep, and you know you need to, Seli. Your hands are shaking like leaves and you look pale.” She gave him a sour glare, but once she had checked in on Theron in the medical bay and seen for herself that he was there, safely aboard and cared for, she let herself be led to her own room.

“I'll help you take off your gear if you'd.....” Arcann began, only to turn around to see that she'd gone to sleep, sprawled across the bed. He laughed, shaking his head in amusement. Taking off her boots and armor before tucking her in under the covers and stowing the pack she'd brought on the ship, the prince left Selirah to sleep. 

But while he sat with Alyxia on the bridge, idly talking battle tactics while the ship was in hyperspace, he wondered if Selirah would give his marriage proposal any thought now that Theron was back with them, and if so.. what answer she would give to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the flu over Easter. Worst thing ever on a holiday where you enjoy gorging on chocolate. ;) Hope everyone is well and enjoying the Iokath update. I've got a ton of alts to finish a few chapters on and catch up just so they can do the chapter! Altoholics unite!


	50. In The Waiting Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite being free and safe again, things are not going back to normal for Theron. Selirah and Arcann have a talk about solutions, and unanswered questions.

Theron jerked awake, panicked. A hand touched him, and he flinched away from it automatically, expecting pain to follow. But the touch came again, gentle as the first time, and he took a breath, forcing himself to be still. 

“Theron, it's Arcann. You're safe. I can wake Selirah for you, alright? She's just tired.. she wouldn't sleep till she found you, and she's exhausted.” The prince's deep voice was soothing, quiet, unthreatening. “How do you feel? You were pretty badly drugged when we found you, but we flushed your system.” His hand rested on Theron's arm, his thumb stroking his skin lightly. 

He glanced at his arm, at Arcann's hand on his skin. Theron took a few slow, deep breaths, feeling the fear recede. Cynera wasn't here, she wasn't touching him, he wasn't about to die in a really horrible way. He was safe. “I feel .. okay, I guess. I feel better. A little fuzzy-headed, I suppose.” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, suppressing the urge to flinch away from the kindly meant touch. “Don't wake her. She needs to sleep. But if you'll help me, I'd rather sleep there with her than here, alone.” 

Arcann nodded, shifting his hand to support Theron's elbow, helping him sit up and slide off the edge of the bed onto his feet. He let go, sensing the unease the other man felt right now and his discomfort with the touch, but stayed close, in case Theron should waver or stumble with the remnants of the drugs still infecting his system. Selirah's room was dark, the low lights glowing a soft red. She lay sprawled across the bed, covers bunched around her waist and tangled between her legs, so Arcann untangled them gently, sliding her arm over to make room for Theron on the side of the bed closest to the door. “Get some rest. She'll be happy to see you when she wakes.. she was worried about you. Theron,” he added, making the name into a question that drew the other man's attention, his hazel eyes settling on Arcann's face, meeting his gaze. “I was worried too. Everyone was. You were missed.”

A small smile touched Theron's lips, and he slid under the covers, stretching, feeling the familiar heat of Selirah's body close to his. It felt like home, and he could feel the knot of unease inside him unraveling in response to the comfort of being near her again as he stroked one hesitant hand down the line of her spine, touching the sleek skin and hearing the softly contented sound Selirah made in her sleep. “Thank you, Arcann. Sorry I'm not much of a conversationalist right now..”

“It's alright. Sleep, and we'll talk later. I'm glad you're home, Theron.” 

Arcann backed away, turning and leaving the room. The door closed behind him, leaving a velvety darkness. Theron closed his eyes, stroking Selirah's back softly, fingertips tracing down over her skin. She stirred beneath his touch, sleepily murmuring his name, and he drew her closer. Rolling over toward him obligingly at his urging, Selirah wrapped herself around him, her legs twining with his, one hand resting on his chest, her face nestled in against Theron's throat. He could feel her breathing on his skin, her body heat warming him. It felt safe, and he finally felt like he could let himself sleep again. 

But he was wrong. Two hours later, he startled awake again, terrified, heart pounding. And he quickly discovered that every night, the same horrible dreams woke him time after time. Selirah and Arcann never complained about their interrupted sleep, but Theron began to feel like he was making a huge kriffing mess of their lives as well as his own with his inability to move past his time in Cynera's power.

On Zakuul for some quiet recovery in the relaxing luxury of the Spire, Theron's nightmares were ceaseless. A few hours of sleep a night began to wear upon him, and make him anxious and jumpy during the day. The curtailed work schedule didn't help either; with so much time to think, he just kept remembering the last few weeks, and the torments and games that Cynera had enjoyed playing with him. 

“This isn't working.” Selirah lay stretched out in the grass, her eyes closed and her head pillowed on Arcann's thigh while he went through their troop deployment numbers and percentages. Theron had asked for some time alone, and so they'd left him the room and gone out to the private rooftop garden down the hall from the Empress' chambers in order to give him space. “I honestly think he's getting worse here, keella. Maybe it was a bad idea to take him here to decompress.. he's always been such a workaholic, perhaps we should take him to Odessen and see if distraction helps instead. I just thought maybe he'd benefit from the quiet and the calm here, no one pestering him.” She slid the fingers of her right hand lightly over the tips of the grass, idly feeling the soft stems bending against her skin with absent pleasure. 

Arcann made an indistinct noise of agreement, his eyes not leaving the screen of the datapad as he sent redeployment adjustments to Jorgan and Torian for their respective teams. “It wouldn't hurt to try,” he said finally, giving her his full attention. She was still a little on the thin side after the stress of Theron's abduction and the search; he could see how tired she looked, and her appetite hadn't fully come back yet with the strain of worrying about Theron's recovery. Neither of them were well-rested, to say the very least, and it was a lot worse for the former agent, who looked like a shadow of his former self. “Perhaps you should leave the night duty to me for a few days, and get some sleep in my old room, love. It would do you good to get a few good nights of rest, and I can sit up with Theron when he has a nightmare.” 

Selirah wrapped one arm around the prince's waist, fingers tracing over his hip in idle circles, stretching her lean frame lazily in the warm sun. She was exhausted, and she knew it. They all were. “You're just as tired as I am, keella. And Theron is the worst off of us all. He looks terrible.”

“I know. But it doesn't make sense for all three of us to be sleep-deprived. Someone has to be rested enough to run the Alliance, and right now? If you put all of our brains together, you might get half of a reasonable thought. We can't keep on like this. So tonight, sleep in my old room, Seli. We can't afford to have you too tired to rule.” His deep voice was eminently reasonable, his cybernetic hand resting lightly on her stomach, rubbing soothingly, and Selirah found herself yawning, all the talk of sleep only reminding her how little she'd had since they'd first lost Theron on Rishi. 

“Fine, fine. You're right. I just don't want him to think that I'm abandoning him, or that I don't want to be there for him.”

“He'll understand. I'll talk to him and explain, and he'll agree with me that you -have- to get more rest than you have been getting. It's been quiet since we got back, but you know that is not likely to last. Someone has to be prepared to handle any emergencies when they crop up, and in the end, you are the Empress and you know it will all fall to you. This way, you'll rest, get some sleep, and be ready to deal with any issues. Theron and I will be alright.” 

Selirah sighed quietly, but she couldn't argue with his reasonably laid out points, or the truth in his words. She also couldn't help but feel a little ashamed that she desperately wanted a night or two of uninterrupted sleep. It seemed unfair to drop everything in Arcann's lap, no matter how willing he was to handle it; and it seemed equally unfair to desert Theron when he was struggling, whether he would see it that way or not. “If Theron says it's alright with him, then I'll agree to it, keella. But if he wants me there, then we're going to find another way to handle this. I wish he'd talk about it.. if not to me, or you, then to someone. He always feels guilty.. ashamed.. to me, when he has his nightmares, and I don't know how to make it more clear to him that he's not at fault for anything that happened. Cynera was always unstable.. Lyorek knew her fairly well, and he told me explicitly that she was always dangerous and unpredictable in her behavior. She could have killed Theron, and she relished causing him pain of any kind. I don't blame him for surviving any way that he could. I would have done anything necessary, if it'd been me.”

Arcann's gaze shifted from perusing the skyline of the Spire to looking down at her where she lay stretched out lazily in the soft grass, his scars livid against the paler skin of his face. “I can't begin to guess at what went on there while she had him. But I can say that in situations where you are powerless against someone dangerous, who has all the control over your safety and your life, it can be incredibly damaging. You make terrible choices. You do terrible things. Terrible things are done to you.” He shrugged, his blue eyes introspective, looking at Selirah without truly seeming to be seeing her. “Our Theron likes to be independent and to think that he doesn't need anyone. He no longer can believe that. That's not easy for him to accept, Seli. And he spends every day with you, me, Senya, Nox, Lyo, Yariele... people who are overflowing with a power that he can't access or even really understand. The only way to contain us is to keep us incapacitated, or kill us. He is much more fragile, and now he can't escape that reality after enduring her games.” 

The prince's deep voice was quiet, and she looked up at him, frustration evident in her expression. “I don't accept that we can't help him because we can't understand how he feels. It's not acceptable to just watch him suffer and believe that it has to run its course, or that he'll have to just struggle through it by himself.”

“I hope you're right. But he can't continue the way he's been going since he came home with us, either. Something is going to give, and I'm worried that it will be something that Theron values,” Arcann replied gravely. “His relationship with you, or his view of himself, or something equally important to him.” He paused, clearly considering his next words carefully. “Have you considered my proposal, Seli? I know that this is not, perhaps, the best time to bring it up. I'm aware that you may not wish to consider it until Theron is more able to weigh in than he would be right now. But.. I still have to ask, because I want to know what you are thinking.”

Heroically swallowing down a burgeoning sigh, Selirah sat up in the grass, sitting cross-legged with her thigh resting against his so that she could face him fully. “I can't give any answer, regardless of what I feel, without Theron's input. You know that, Ar'eswo, and you want to push me to give you what you want so that the decision is made, regardless of Theron's feelings on it later. I'm not going to do that.” 

His jaw tightened visibly, scars whitening, and his eyes shifted away from her face, a flare of temper evident in their bond. “Then I will wait, if that is the only answer you will give me.” Selirah's fingers touched Arcann beneath the chin, lightly guiding his face back towards her, waiting until he was looking at her again to answer. 

“Don't be resentful or lay this at Theron's feet, keella. You know me well enough to know that any misgivings I have are mine, and mine alone. I have been married, and you know what came of it. My wariness about it has nothing to do with any fear that you would betray me the way that Quinn did, and everything to do with the fact that I just struggle with the need for marriage at all. Do you not feel how much I love you? Am I falling short in expressing it in some way? Are you feeling insecure about your place in my heart? Tell me, if any of this is the case, and we'll deal with it together.”

Arcann touched her hand with his, their fingers twining together tightly. Guilt suffused him; he knew that it was the wrong time to press her on the matter, and some part of him had known that her discomfort about formalizing relationships was solely her own and not about Theron's own incredible resistance to any change. “I'm sorry,” he began, his voice rough with embarrassment. He could feel the heat flushing his face, hating the knowledge of what the color would do to the scars marring his face.

She shook her head at him, a faint, tired smile curving her lips. “Don't be. I like that you want.. everything. I like your determination. And I'm not really saying no, so much as.. slow down. It's a lot for me to absorb, much less react to, and there's just always so many things pulling me in different directions. I love that you want to make that kind of commitment to what is between us.” 

“You're not falling short.. you tell me all the time how you feel about me, Seli. Every time you call me darling, or beloved, or tell me that you love me, or hold me while we sleep. It would be impossible for me to not understand how you feel, or how important I am to you. I shouldn't have pushed. I just felt so impatient to have something be about us, me and you. That sounds callous in the extreme when I think about it, but it's how I feel. I don't resent that we are both focused on Theron right now.. he needs us. But.. I still wanted to talk about something that was just for us.”

He sounded so apologetic, and so ashamed of something that she realized was perfectly reasonable that Selirah felt more than a little bit badly that he'd even had to articulate the feeling in the first place. “You're right. Theron is a priority right now, and I know you're not asking for that to change, but.. you're right. I can't just focus only on him and ignore you as if you don't need me too. And I need you, as well. I feel like I'm floundering so badly with Theron.. I feel completely out of my depth. I don't know how to help him and I'm letting it take over every moment of my day, and that's not helpful to any of us. I'm sorry, Arcann.”

His expression softened, easing into a half-smile that curved his lips slightly, brightening his blue eyes. “It's my turn to tell you not to apologize. We'll figure out how to help him, together. But I'm not willing to lose -us- in the process, and as long as you are with me in that, then I can wait for everything else that I want.” Arcann cupped her face in his hands, realizing as he did so that he no longer felt angry when he saw his cybernetic hand, or felt that he'd lost something vital when he'd lost his arm on Korriban, because now he had her.

Her smile widened, and she leaned in to kiss him, her hand sliding over his shoulder and cupping the back of his neck. Her fingers slid over the rough, short strands of his hair, enjoying the sensation of it as Arcann's hands went to her waist, lifting her onto his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her firmly against him, and the kiss went from gentle to demanding in an instant. Selirah arched her body against his, her arms twined around his shoulders, and she bit his lower lip lightly, laughing when he made a growling noise of protest against her mouth. “I am with you in that, keella, and in all things. That's not going to change.”

Arcann kissed her again, more gently, and got to his feet, lifting her with him easily and setting her on her feet. His hand found hers, and their fingers entwined again, her skin deliciously warm against his. “Can we take a little time for ourselves without feeling guilty about it?” he asked, his deep voice sending a shiver through Selirah. 

“Yes. I think I can manage that. Guilt was never my strong point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 50. *laughs* This has so taken over my life. ;)


	51. Goodnight, Sweet Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Arcann keep each other company while Selirah is off sleeping the sleep of the just.

Theron jerked awake, his heart pounding in his chest, breathing ragged. He touched his neck, fingers exploring the nape carefully, making sure that there was no slave collar present. The dreams were so realistic, so perfect in detail, that he just couldn't seem to make himself understand that they were just dreams in the moment, and sometimes for awhile afterwards as well. They were always slightly different, but universally horrifying and disorienting, leaving him feeling sick and confused when he woke. 

And then there was the fact that every time he woke up, he woke up Seli and Arcann both. That was a different feeling; guilt. They both had been so patient, something that wasn't very easy for either of them in general. And he'd agreed easily that Selirah needed to get some sleep apart from them so that she wasn't exhausted all the time, but now, sitting here in the dark, he selfishly wished that she was beside him, warm and comforting, her very presence telling him that he was safe. 

“Theron?” Arcann's voice was gravelly, sleepy-sounding, and he could hear the prince roll onto his side next to him. “I'm here, you're not alone. Are you alright?” 

Roughly scrubbing a hand through his hair, Theron took a minute to slow down his breathing and calm himself and his emotions, using one of the meditation techniques that he'd learned as a child with the Jedi. “I'm alright. Just.. another nightmare. I'm sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep, it's fine.”

“Don't apologize, Theron.. there's nothing to be sorry about, and I know it's not fine. You don't have to deal with this alone.” Arcann didn't touch him or otherwise try to comfort him physically. He wasn't sure that Theron would welcome the touch anyway, given what he'd just been through, so he waited and let the other man decide what he needed or wanted from him. “I don't know why you would -want- to face it alone. I know I'm not as good as having Seli here with you, but I am a good listener. Getting some of it out might help you. And you have people who love you, and are worried about you, and want to help you, if you'll let us try.”

“I don't want to... deal with it alone, that is,” Theron began, and then he chuckled softly, a dry, sarcastic laugh. “That's not true. I do want to be able to handle it. I should be able to, anyway. We're trained to deal with capture and torture in the SIS. It's expected that at some point, as an agent, you're going to fall into the hands of someone who wants to get information from you or kill you. Or both.”

“You sound like you think you should be immune to the effects of being captured and hurt, and that's … it's unrealistic, Theron. I think you know it is unrealistic. Yes, they gave you techniques to use to help you cope with torture, and capture, and psychological tricks. That doesn't mean you're going to be unaffected by those things, or that you even should be. I would imagine they had people for you to talk to after any kind of incident, didn't they? Doctors whose job was to evaluate the damage to mind and body both?”

“Well, yes. I didn't like to talk to them.. what's the point? They don't understand. How could they understand what it's actually like to be out there in the field, or in the hands of the enemy, with very real odds that you're going to be killed?” 

He could hear Arcann move, sitting up in the bed as he came more fully awake. “Theron, they were trained to help you work through the event yourself. They don't have to understand how it felt in order to be able to help you.” The deep voice fell silent for a moment, and then the prince continued quietly, “And we are not doctors, we are not just anyone. We care about you, Theron, and it's painful to watch you suffer alone and refuse to let us help you. Seli feels upset because she can't help you. But she could, if you'd let her. You always want to be completely independent, not need anything from anyone, and I understand that way of thinking. But if you're going to choose to love someone and live a life with them, you have to let them in even when you really don't want to do it. Even when you're afraid to let them see what's going on inside your mind. You don't have to trust me with any of this. I'd understand, though I hope that someday you will want to confide in me. But if you love Selirah, you have to talk to her and let her support you. She already leans on you; now you need to lean on her. You know she is strong. She can handle it, and she would never tell anything that you told her to anyone, if you are worried about that.”

Theron lay quietly in the dark, the faint lighting in the room not enough to illuminate the bed. It was huge and ornate, with carved posts set a short distance from the corners of the bed, and an elaborate canopy of cloth hanging with each corner attached to one post. The walls of the room were ornate as well.. everything in the Spire was, but the Empress' private chamber was particularly elaborately decorated. Selirah found it very excessive and in questionable taste, but she had never made much of an attempt to personalize the rooms, either. Odessen was home. The only thing she'd ever added here was a pair of paintings in the sitting area, one of Ryloth, and one of Korriban. “I hurt her feelings before I left for Rishi, you know. I wasn't comfortable with letting her into my mind, my thoughts.. but I think I made her feel like I didn't trust her not to hurt me. I just.. I don't know why it's so hard for me to..” He sighed, and tried again to explain. “I do trust her. I feel like I've been in love with her forever and it still took me so long to say it.”

Arcann listened, and Theron could hear him stretch back out in the bed, accompanied by the faint sound of his cybernetic fingers flexing and closing into a fist, then reopening slowly. It was a gesture that the prince often made unconsciously when he was thinking, or figuring out how to say something, and was a tell that Theron had figured out a while ago, not long after Arcann had joined them. “It wasn't much easier for her to say it to you. You're not the only one who has a hard time with trust, or opening up. But this isn't like waiting a few days longer to say that you love her. You are hurting, and I think you know that she hates to see that. She wants to be someone you trust and talk to, and every day that this stretches on where you keep her shut out, Theron.. it hurts her too. I hope you'll think about it, and at least try to let her in. You know she's not going to abandon you, or leave you. She would move entire planets to find you. It is not going to be a bad thing, trusting her with your fears.”

“Do you? Trust her with your fears? Do you even have any?” Theron asked, the last question somewhat wryly offered, and Arcann laughed in the dark of the bedroom. 

“I have plenty of fears, and jealousies, and things that make me angry. I'm not going to pretend that I tell her everything.. she doesn't need to know every petty thing that irritates me during the day. But yes. I trust her. She listens, and even if she does not understand why I feel the way I do, she respects it. We have that trust with each other because she has seen my mind and my thoughts, my memories, my fears. She looked, and saw my flaws, and still loved me. She wouldn't see anything in you that would change how she feels, Theron.”

Theron rolled onto his side, and his hand came to rest on Arcann's stomach, his thumb brushing over the scar left from the lightsaber injury he'd gotten awhile ago. He could feel the other man breathing in slow, measured breaths, the flat muscled plane of his stomach rising and falling lazily under his fingers as his hand made light circles. “How do you know? What if she looked and saw something I'd done, or said, or … I don't know. What if something changed how she felt?”

“Do you mean from your captivity, or.. before that? With the SIS?”

“I guess both. Both is good.”

“Theron, who you were when you were with the Republic and when you were an SIS agent made you into the man she met and fell in love with. There's nothing in your past that is going to make her question her love for you. And there's nothing that happened with Cynera that is your fault. She will never find anything to be angry at -you- about in that circumstance. Only perhaps the regret that she can't kill Cynera again. Thirty or forty more times. And that is a regret that I share, though I'm not sorry that I took you safely out of there. I know she was trusting me with the most important person in her life.”

Theron's hand stilled, and he took a short, quick indrawn breath. “Arcann, that's not true. You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I share so much of her thoughts and feelings that I assure you.. it's almost impossible for me to be deceived about how she feels, when it's as strong an emotion as the love she has for you. If I could have replaced you, I would have done it when I first realized how I felt about her. But I knew quickly that it was an impossible idea. She is defensive about revealing her affections for you too openly; she's afraid of exactly what happened with Cynera, that people will try to harm you because of her. But have no doubt, Theron.. you are irreplaceable to Selirah. I know she loves me. I don't resent you for how she feels about you. But I envy you,” he admitted, his deep voice rueful. “I envy you quite extensively.”

Closing his eyes, Theron let Arcann's words wash over him and sink in, really thinking about them and realizing that if they weren't true, the prince would never have even said them. He hated feeling like he was less than anyone around him, and it had to eat at him to feel that way. But Arcann had admitted it to him anyway, told him something that probably was painful for him to admit, and he'd done it because he knew how much Theron needed to hear it.

It was strangely comforting. With that thought and many others in his mind, Theron drifted off to sleep again. And there were no more nightmares that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a friend visiting this week. (yay!) But I probably will be curtailed in writing till he's off on his way again. ;) We'll see. If inspiration hits, I'll find the time!
> 
> Regardless, May the 4th be with you all. <3


	52. Something To Believe In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Theron have a long-overdue conversation, and Arcann's advice proves to be valuable.

Selirah's method of waking Theron was, without question, his favorite. Well, she had several, and some were a lot more desirable by definition, but this morning she was stretched out beside him, her arm around his waist and her teeth lightly closed on his earlobe, the faint teasing brush of a tongue against his skin forcing his eyes to open. “Wake up, love. Half the day is gone, and I am lonely,” she murmured into his ear, her voice pitched low. 

He turned his head to look at her, a smile curving his lips, and she smiled back at him. As much as he'd hated sleeping apart from her last night, as he gazed at her now and saw how much less exhausted she looked, he knew it'd been the right choice. Her tattoos hid the dark circles and obvious signs of exhaustion, but she'd gotten thinner, and just more tired looking as the days had worn into weeks, but she'd never complained or shown him any signs of exasperation with his persistent nightmares. 

Arcann's patience with him was easier to understand; Theron had seen clearly how influenced the prince was by Selirah's emotions due to the nature of their bond, even if he didn't completely understand how the link worked. She'd tried to explain a few times, and so had Arcann, but quite a bit of it seemed to involve mystical force nonsense that neither of them seemed capable of articulating in any useful manner to him. Regardless, the prince sometimes was in such complete lockstep with Seli's viewpoints that it could be a little unnerving to watch, as if he was unable to disagree with her, or have a different approach. The totality of it made Theron a little uncomfortable at times, but Arcann always gave him such a look of mingled confusion and amusement when he commented on it that he'd stopped bothering. It was obvious that Arcann didn't mind her ability to influence him. The dilemma, for Theron, was wondering if he didn't mind because he simply couldn't disengage from Selirah's point of view, or if he legitimately didn't care independent of her feelings on the matter. Either way, Arcann was patient with him because Selirah wanted him to be; whether or not he would have felt the same way absent her influence was pointless to question. 

“Good morning,” he answered, stretching luxuriously. “Feeling better today?” 

“I did need the sleep more than I like to admit,” Selirah replied with an amused smile, her lips touching his in a brief, affectionate kiss. “And no, there's no emergencies or problems, so don't get that look on your face. I'm not here to tell you about an attack on Odessen or an uprising here on Zakuul. Lana says everything is under control, and I think we all could use a little more relaxation before we go back to saving everyone from themselves.” Her wry tone made Theron laugh, and he drew her closer, feeling that nebulous sense of 'home' that she always carried with her for him. Rich surroundings and all the trappings of an Empress' residence, or their quiet simple chambers on Odessen, the bed on the Fury, sleeping under the stars on Rakata Prime; it didn't matter where they were, or what was going on around them. As long as he was with her, he always felt like things would work out. Fate wasn't really something that Theron had ever believed in, not really. But as the years had gone by, watching events swirl around Selirah, focused always on her, and her actions, and her choices.. it was hard to maintain that disbelief. And whatever she was, whomever she became, she was always his Seli, always facing any new fight or challenge with the same unassailable belief in her own ability to triumph. 

“I wish I had your certainty in yourself,” Theron found himself saying aloud, a flush of color rising in his cheeks once the words had left his mouth. “You never doubt what you're doing. No one can damage that, it seems, not even a world-devouring, mass-murdering, near-god like Valkorian.”

Selirah regarded him silently for a moment, her lavender eyes thoughtful. The subject change didn't seem to throw her for long, though, and she hummed noncommittally before answering. “That's not necessarily the case, love. I do have doubts, and sometimes I'm not sure if I'm doing what I should be doing. I wonder, for instance, if I let my own proclivities and beliefs color my decisions. Do I respond as a Sith too often.. am I being unfair to the members of our Alliance who do not share my feelings? I question my decisions, I worry about the ramifications of them. Everyone has doubts, Theron. Everyone is afraid sometimes, even me.” She gave him a faint smile. “I know it may not look that way, but if I let people see that I was afraid, or had doubts, or wasn't absolutely certain at all times, they would panic. I can only be myself when I'm here with you and Arcann, because I know I can lean on you both when I need some strength or a different viewpoint.”

Theron tucked one hand under the back of his head, looking up at the loose-woven cloth suspended over the bed, the gold-ornamented ceiling visible through the threads. “Arcann said that I need to open up to you. That if I wanted to tie my life to someone else's, I had to let them in, even when I didn't want to do it,” he explained, his tone bemused. “He is the last person that I would think would embrace the idea of confiding in others or trusting others, you know.”

“I think he realized how much harm loneliness can do to you, firsthand. His isolation and solitude only fed his envy and jealousy, especially once Thexan was gone.” Her eyes flickered to the empty side of the bed, but she didn't seem concerned about where Arcann was, or why he wasn't sleeping as well, so Theron could only assume that she already knew where he was and what he was doing. She could feel him, like a compass needle swinging unerringly north, and rarely expended much effort in worrying about his location, and she could see what he was doing, if she wished to. “It isn't exactly possible to keep things from me anyway, for him.”

“Why doesn't that bother him more? I don't understand how he can be so complacent about having so little that is solely his. His own thoughts, his feelings, his emotions, even just his actions.. everything shared. It seems crazy to me. No offense.”

“None taken. Arcann is a different person, Theron. His actions aren't always going to make sense to you, or to me. But he was so starved for connection, for love..” She trailed off, shrugging one shoulder in a graceful, lazy gesture, her eyes resting on the profile of Theron's face. “Our bond is important to him in a way that would be hard for most people to understand. I don't miss my family, or that connection, so it isn't the same for me, but I understand that he feels differently about it. He has someone that is a part of him, and he is comforted by that.”

“I guess I can understand that. It's not like I don't have plenty of experience with having parents who are not really ideal.”

“Your parents love you, Theron,” Selirah replied, though he could practically feel the faint sneer curving her lips when it came to his mother, an emotion that he strongly agreed with most of the time. “They handled it poorly, but.. I know that they care for you in their way. That said.. it shouldn't surprise them so much that you would fall in love with someone whose view on emotion is strongly opposite to theirs.”

Theron laughed. “I think perhaps if you'd just been a citizen of the Empire.. even a kriffing officer, or a Moff, even.. they might have understood. The problem comes in with the whole Emperor's Wrath/Republic Boogyman status, and the Sith thing. That part is a little hard for them to get past. My mother might acknowledge that you were necessary to defeat Valkorian, and Arcann, and Vaylin. She might admit that your particular skills were of value in the fight. But that her perpetual disappointment of a force-blind son chose to tie himself to that same Sith was doubtless an incredibly bitter pill to swallow for the former Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.” Glancing to the side, he caught the faint glitter of pleasure in Selirah's eyes, and he laughed again, shaking his head. “Shame on you.”

“I'm a bad influence on the galaxy as a whole,” Selirah agreed with a notable lack of shame. “And on you in particular. Look at us, abed and wasting the whole day when no doubt someone is in need of help somewhere, probably in a swamp or some other distasteful, stinky place filled with toothy alien wildlife, and rotting vegetation that I'd be digging out of my boots for days. And I'm going to do nothing about it, and neither are you. Lana can handle it for a little while longer.”

“Lana could handle everything, probably forever. Her level of competence is a little staggering sometimes,” Theron admitted. “If she didn't hate being the visible face of power so much, she'd probably be the Empress instead.”

“Don't tempt me. I wish every day that it was someone other than me. I'd like to buy a ridiculously lavish estate somewhere on a beautiful planet..”

“Alderaan. We both know it'd be Alderaan.”

“Fine. On Alderaan, and I'd live there with you and Arcann, and have no problems except deciding what to eat for dinner.”

“You'd be bored to death inside of a month and so would we, and you know it. And then you'd want to take over Alderaan and be the Queen. You may hate the day to day minute details of running an Empire, but there's no question that you were born to rule. Luckily, you have the rest of us to take a lot of the boring things off your plate.”

“And you have me, Theron. For everything.” She slid closer to him, resting her head on his pillow next to him, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest and stomach, the warmth of her skin comfortingly pressed against his side. “Arcann is right, you know. You can talk to me. I know it seems like I might not understand how you feel, but I still want to be someone you trust to listen and be there for you. I love you. So much. I could never bear to lose you for any reason, Theron. You are incredibly important to me, and I want to be the person you come to, for anything, no matter how small, or how large. Will you talk to me?”

Theron could feel the fear of revealing himself to her rising up in his thoughts. He'd never learned the knack of confiding in others. He couldn't even remember when he'd started to build the wall around himself, or started keeping others out. Over the years, it'd become so ingrained that now the habit was just instinctive. But he'd seen how Selirah responded to Arcann's willingness to share himself with her without reservation; the two had grown so close, so quickly, that their powerful force bond merely seemed like a manifestation of the level of trust that they shared. He couldn't have a bond with her, not like that. But he had been with her for years, and she had waited for him to choose to let her in. Arcann was right that it was a necessary step in trusting someone else. “I'm not good at this.. at sharing things, how I feel. I'm a lot better at being closed off.”

He could almost feel her smiling, and hear it in her voice. “I know, love. And I won't push you to say anything that you're not ready to, either. But I'm hoping it will help you to talk about it.”

Theron took a deep breath, gathering his courage. He closed his eyes, and started to talk, telling her about what had happened during his captivity, and the dreams. Once he'd started, it was strangely easy to keep going. She listened, held him, didn't interrupt. She just was there for him, and shared his fears and guilt and pain and anger, and told him that she loved him, and that none of it had been his fault. 

He wasn't sure if it'd be enough to stop the dreams altogether, but he had a feeling that it was going to help, just the same. It was a relief to get all of it out in the open with her, and Arcann had been right.. she didn't feel differently about him, or look at him differently, once she knew it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hostess duties completed, I return to work. ;)


	53. Don't Fight The Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lana is given a task.
> 
> Selirah and Arcann talk about the chain of command, and seal it with a kiss. And a bit more than that.

**Odessen:**

After nearly three weeks time spent on Zakuul, surrounded by the opulence and luxurious comfort of the Spire, Selirah found herself ill-prepared to return to work in a meaningful manner. Lana's wake up calls for the morning meeting were insistent and impossible to ignore, and she drove everyone around her like an overseer, requiring of them the same amount of constant devotion to duty that she herself displayed. Which was fine.. for everyone else.. but Selirah did not appreciate being harangued or pitilessly nagged into taking care of things that frankly shouldn't have been any of her concern. 

Meeting Lana's yellow gaze from her seat in the Odessen throne room, Selirah suppressed an urge to sigh, or better yet, to throw a few of her Skytrooper guards through the nearby window in exasperation. “I'm NOT going to Iokath, Lana. I'm pleased that the radiation level has dropped enough that we can finally begin to explore and get some idea of what we have there, but I am not personally going to tromp around that tedious death trap and take readings just because you're used to me always spearheading our major missions. This is the kind of task that is ideal for our scientists and some of the less experienced troops, so they can get some mission time under their belts and gain some confidence. It's beneath me to even consider going there for information gathering.”

“You could at least let me send Arcann, or Th..”

“NO!” The refusal, nearly shouted, came with a very hefty dose of force-imbued rage that made the air around her crackle, and even the pragmatic Lana took a wary step back in response to the obvious dark aura of fury that had risen around the Empress at the notion of letting Theron and Arcann leave her side. “Theron is not going, and neither is Arcann. If you want to send someone more experienced along, then you will go yourself, Lana. That is -not- a request.”

Lana spluttered in shock, caught flat-footed by Selirah's sudden turn. She knew her value to the smooth day to day operation of the Alliance, and it had never occurred to her to think that Seli would decide to designate her the head of the exploration mission. Of course, she'd known that it was unwise to even offer up Theron's name after the his abduction; Selirah had grown increasingly and unreasonably protective of the agent ever since, and it showed no signs of slowing down even now that he'd returned to full duty. But Arcann's assistance would have been invaluable, for his strength in combat as well as his clever strategic mind. Troop deployment and combat missions had increasingly been allotted to his work schedule, and the prince shone at both, even to the satisfaction of Jorgan and his soldier wife, Teryn. Iokath would be an ideal use of his skillset, and it wasn't as if Arcann would be likely to refuse the posting if it was put to him. But it was obvious from the look on Selirah's face that to even attempt to go around her and straight to the prince would be taken.. poorly. “I don't want to imply that I am irreplaceable, Empress, but.... who is going to run things around here, if I go to Iokath with a crew to explore the planet?” she inquired cautiously.

“I am fully aware that you think me incapable of doing what you do, and you're not entirely wrong in that thought, Lana. But you do a disservice to Theron, Senya, Yariele, Nox, and Lyorek by assuming that their assistance would not be sufficient for us to manage in your absence,” Selirah remonstrated coolly, her expression forbidding further argument. “Select your team, get some input from Arcann and Jorgan on the military contingent, and we will make preparations. I will join you there later if need be, but for the time being, I trust that you will acquit yourself admirably in pursuit of cataloging the possible gains to be had on Iokath. Focus your search on weaponry upgrades and defensive capabilities, but use your discretion on anything else that you deem to be of interest.” Her fingers tapped impatiently on the arm of the throne, and lavender eyes fixed pitilessly on Lana's face. “I have the utmost faith in your ability to accomplish this task, Lana.”

The dismissal in that last sentence was blatant, and as Lana turned to leave after offering a polite inclination of her head, she saw Arcann waiting by the door, his right shoulder propped up against the wall, arms crossed. Making her way towards him, Lana paused in front of him, watching curiosity light in his pale blue gaze. “Would you put together a list of the strongest candidates for a research mission to Iokath for me? I need to get a team together and would appreciate the assistance.”

“Of course. She said no to Theron going, didn't she?” he asked, and in response to her nod, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I don't think she will ever let him out of her sight again, Lana. We may just have to adjust to that.”

“She also said no to you going,” Lana responded dryly. “Rather forcefully.”

“Good. I wouldn't have wanted to go.” With this flippant response, and an annoyingly cocky smile, Arcann pushed off the wall and headed deeper into the throne room, leaving Lana no choice but to take the lift back to the main floor of the base and start the work of forming her expedition team.

Selirah's face lit up with pleasure as he approached, and she rose from the throne, crossing the remaining space so quickly that Arcann just had enough warning to brace himself. Then she was in his arms, and he closed his eyes for a moment, resting his scarred cheek against her smooth crimson skin. He'd been able to feel her presence long before he'd even entered the lift to join her in the throne room, but this close it was like drowning in her. And he loved the feeling of it all, like he was immersed in her thoughts and emotions and that nebulous sense of Seli that was flavored with everything that made up who she was inside. The sweet-spicy scent of her skin, the feeling of her arms wrapped around his shoulders; he'd never been particularly prone to interest in religion, but every time he held her like this, some part of his mind thanked Aivela for giving him the chance to find a different path that had led them to each other. 

“I really dislike you going on patrol with Senya, Ar'eswo,” Selirah complained sourly. “I haven't seen you in days.”

“Coming home is always so enjoyable, though. You're so much happier to see me when I've been away.” Arcann laughed when her only response was a balled up fist and a punch to his upper arm. “Ouch,” he said obligingly, looking into her eyes, sifting unconsciously through the information the bond fed him. “Theron is doing well?”

“He's settling back into duty with his usual workaholic aplomb. The nightmares have all but disappeared.. just one in the last few days, and he's been focused and a lot happier. I think he's going to be fine. He just needs a little more time to... for other things that are still proving to be too difficult for him.” She made an impatient gesture to one of the Skytroopers and the droid fetched a seat from one of the nearby workstations, carrying it effortlessly despite the weight. It situated the chair near her throne, on the dais, and retreated back to its place in the honor guard configuration as Selirah returned to her own seat, one booted leg draped idly over the arm of the throne. “He's with Hylo and Gault right now, and I had the distinct feeling that I didn't want to be apprised of what they're doing in too much detail. Plausible deniability is my motto where those two are concerned most of the time anyway.” Arcann paused before the chair, his blue eyes flickering towards the door and then back before he sat, sinking into it with his easy grace, his hand coming to rest on her leg where it dangled near him, fingers stroking over her fabric-covered thigh absently. “I haven't gotten to the reports yet.. did everything go smoothly for your team, keella?”

She could feel the hesitation in his thoughts, whispering through his mind. His uncertainty about telling her something. Pale blue eyes clouded, fixed on a point across the room. She straightened, sitting up and shifting her weight, leaning on the armrest closest to him. “Not.. smoothly,” he said quietly. Selirah gazed at him, waiting for him to continue. “I did put most of this in the report, but there's been a lot of escalation, love. Both from the Empire and the Republic. There's something more to this than just rebellion or an attempt to test our strength. Senya disagrees with me about it, but I feel that they are both trying to keep us busy and distracted. She thinks it's typical aggression. It doesn't translate that way to me, though.” Selirah saw his shoulders relax at the end of his words, relief in every line of his tall frame as he ran his cybernetic hand over the short stubble of his golden hair, a gesture that she was amused to note he'd picked up from Theron when the agent was feeling aggravated or trying to work something out. “I think they're up to something. It feels that way to me.” Settling back against his chair, the prince exhaled softly, his right hand touching hers where it rested on the armrest. 

Selirah took his hand in her own, echoing his posture unconsciously with her own, considering his words carefully. “Did you have any kind of sense of what it could be? Any opportunity to try to elicit information from them?”

“No. It is just a feeling that I have. A sense that there is something else on the horizon and that both of them will be involved.” His rumbling voice paused, then he added, “I think it will involve us all.”

“The only possible nexus ahead of us currently is the exploration of Iokath, but there's no evidence that either of them have been to the world or would be foolish enough to attempt to encroach upon it. Perhaps Lana will be able to discover more when she arrives with her team, but in the meantime, I think you should make certain that she has sufficient forces with her in case there are any unexpected wrinkles in the mission. If she has no need of the extra firepower, good. If she does, we'll be glad that we sent it.”

“Yariele, Teryn.. Gelena, Alyxia, Torian...” Arcann mused, thinking aloud. She could feel his fingers shifting against hers, curling around her hand warmly. “Nox?”

“She has very little interest in the kind of artifacts and technology on Iokath. Bored, she would be a dangerous liability instead of an asset,” Selirah replied dryly. “Send Lyorek. He can be surprisingly adept at discovering information, even from avowed enemies. A few of Sana-Rae's more advanced students, Teryn and Jorgan's recent graduates, and perhaps half again as many Skytroopers should round out the party acceptably.”

Arcann lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles, his eyes moving from her fingers to her face. “Are you certain that you don't want me to assist Lana? I think we both know that it would be a good use of my skills.” 

Selirah regarded him silently for a moment. He felt her fingers flex in his grip, starting to pull away, but he tightened his hold on her hand, holding her gaze challengingly. After a few seconds, she relented and exhaled softly, shaking her head. “Lana has her team, keella. Don't push me on this.” The warning was gently stated, but there was iron behind it. “If she needs any help, I will have to go to Iokath, and you are one of the only people that I know can keep things running smoothly without me here. You will be in charge until I get back, if that should happen, and I will not need to worry about anything while I'm gone, because I know you'll handle everything and keep everyone in line.”

A surprised look widened the prince's eyes, tightening the scars around the left one, and his skin flushed pink everywhere that he was free of scarring. “You would trust -me- to watch over the Alliance?” he asked, sounding doubtful and more than a little bit wary, as if he expected a trick or some kind of joke was being played on him. “To be in actual charge of running everything?” 

His uncertainty and fear were evident to her in the bond.. she could feel them clearly from him, as well as his own doubts about his ability to lead and keep her Alliance functioning without her around. But it was the expectation that he wouldn't be trusted that made her reach out to him with her free hand, taking his cybernetic fingers into her own, meeting his gaze. “Of course I would,” Selirah told him matter-of-factly. “I trust you implicitly, keella. Your old life is far behind you, and I would be a poor leader indeed if I didn't see everything that you do, or everything that you're capable of accomplishing if you are given the chance. People here have learned to trust your skill and your military strategies are admired even by Jorgan and Aygo. There's no reason for me to feel anything but confidence in your ability to be a fair and qualified leader, and I need someone like that to lean on when I can't be here.”

Arcann's expression was heartbreaking, full of gratitude, love, and a fragile pride that she had cause to know had been smashed to pieces hundreds of times as he'd grown up. Some part of him would probably always be that boy, looking for approval from the people he loved, and he still couldn't believe that here, he was being given the chance to become the man he always should have been. His acceptance among the people of the Alliance had been slow, but he was making more headway than he seemed to understand. “I don't know what to say. Aren't you worried that the others won't follow me?”

“They will follow you. You need to look around more often and really see. I know there is still a long way to go, but you have friends here, and you've built trust with everyone since you arrived. I'm not worried, Ar'eswo, because I have no reason to be. I know you'll take care of everything here for me, if I need to leave for any reason, and that takes a lot of weight off my shoulders.”

“Why not Theron? Everyone loves him and he doesn't have all of my history hanging over his head.”

“Theron doesn't want to lead, and it's not really his strong point. And in all honesty, if I need to go to Iokath, I'd need his technical expertise. Leading here and keeping my throne safe is something that only you can do for me, Arcann. Will you promise to do that for me?” She freed one of her hands, gesturing imperiously towards the exit, and the Skytrooper detail filed out, taking the lift down to the main floor in two groups. Rising to her feet, she urged Arcann to his feet too, leaning up to kiss him and turning him around, pushing him down in the throne despite the protesting noise he made in his throat. 

“I promise,” he answered slowly, looking up at her. She stepped closer, standing between his feet, and rested her hands on the arms of the throne, leaning in to kiss him again with a light touch of her lips against his. “Thank you for trusting me, Seli.”

Lips curving into a smile, Selirah shrugged one shoulder, her lekku twining lightly behind her back with the tips crossing over twice. “There is no reason for me not to trust you, keella. You have earned it.” Arcann's hands rose to her waist, fingers sliding into the tight, lightly armored leggings encasing her hips and thighs, sliding them down inch by slow inch. She straightened, and toed off her boots, one after the other, kicking them aside and taking over the removal of her pants. “I never got to see you on the throne. Probably a positive, though,” she mused, her lavender eyes taking him in from head to toe in a leisurely and lascivious fashion. “You look very... good there.” Her pants tossed aside, Seli slid her hands up Arcann's legs from his knees to his thighs, and then higher, tugging open his pants and peeling them down over his hips to free his thickening shaft. He made a bass growling noise in his throat, and she straddled his lap, hips grinding forward against him teasingly. 

“And I'm glad you think that, love. But it's only temporary thrones for me from now on,” the prince noted, his deep voice catching in his throat as her hips did something impossibly arousing to him, choking off his thoughts for a moment. His hands slid up over her hips and waist, fingers digging into her skin until she gasped in pain mingled with pleasure, her eyes hotly meeting his. Her pleasure flooded his mind, and Arcann opened himself to her in return, unable to even remember what it had ever been like to be with someone without this kind of intimacy. No secrets, no insecurities. Just every feeling laid bare to each other, their bond making them mesh with each other mentally in a complex mingling of sensations that made it easy to lose yourself completely. Selirah never minded the way they sometimes overlapped onto each other; she threw herself into the shared bond the same way she threw herself into everything. With no reserve, and no fear, and no apprehension, just pure passion and audacity and certainty. 

She leaned up on her knees, one slim-fingered hand closing around his cock with bold surety, guiding him into her and lowering herself over him. Her eyes stayed locked on his, and he watched the pleasure fill her lavender gaze, her lips parted on a breathless shuddering sound of relief as their hips touched, with him buried fully inside her core. “I love the way you feel,” she said suddenly, her voice husky with passion, her hips circling slowly against his, provoking an answering groan from him. His hands slid up her waist, pulling her tunic up over her head and tossing it across the room, impatient to touch her skin and feel the heat of her body against his hands. His fingers cupped the curves of her breasts, and she arched into his caress, her eyes half-lidded and somnolent, her hips moving in a dreamy, indolent motion that was half circle and half thrust. The flex and stretch of muscles under her crimson skin captured his attention, and he barely noticed as she stripped his own leather tunic away, peeling it open and trailing her nails over his chest and stomach. 

Keeping the pace punishingly slow, Selirah leaned forward, her lips meeting his. Neither of them wanted to stop the kisses, and each one grew more deep and ardent, both of them absorbed in the taste of each other's mouths, the salt-sweetness of sweat on skin. His hands moved to her back, fingers gliding up her spine, pausing on the circular saber scar she wore through her body. Tracing it lightly with his thumb until he felt her shudder against him, Arcann bit her lower lip, hearing her whimper into his mouth. His hands went higher, delving beneath the weight of her lekku, feeling them twisted around each other in that curious way. Perhaps it was meant to keep them out of the way, but the thought only managed to linger for a moment before it was swept away in the waves of pleasure and satisfaction washing over him. Cupping his hands around her face, he broke the kiss, holding her just far enough away that he could see her face, watching her as he lifted his hips, thrusting up into her from below.

His stomach muscles flexed, thighs tensing to give him the control and strength to keep up the faster pace. But he was not going to let her dictate everything, no matter how used to ruling she was, and this was one time when he liked to see her lose control completely. Selirah's eyes were half-lidded, dark and passionate, and Arcann watched her face with masculine pride, seeing the moment when she came apart in his hands, her eyes losing focus. Her body tensed and she shuddered helplessly in his arms, her climax bowing her back tautly and making her hips snap forward against his, burying him deeper inside her until it was impossible for him to hold back his own release. The sensation of her in his mind was overlaid onto his own nerves and synapses, and it overwhelmed him with her satisfaction. Pulling her down to him, his shout of pleasure muffled against her mouth, Arcann's hands tightened bruisingly hard on her body as he drove into her one last time, spilling hotly inside her. 

Neither of them even tried to move for several minutes, catching their breath and reveling in the shared feeling of lassitude suffusing their limbs, making it much more desirable to simply lie together in each other's arms. Selirah stirred first, sliding off him and shifting her body to lay sideways across the throne and his lap, sprawled comfortably with her head resting against his shoulder. The only move he made was to shift his hold on her so that she was supported, and then he closed his eyes again. 

Her thoughts were drifting, and he was still in contact with her through the bond. So he let his thoughts float aimlessly with hers, twined together in mind as well as body. It would be time to deal with Iokath and the Republic and the Sith Empire soon enough; but this moment was just for them.


	54. Hands of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron isn't quite past what happened to him, and Selirah struggles to connect with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who hasn't done the new content yet: No mention of it in this chapter. It's coming, but it's still a little ways off. I'll warn (again, at the beginning to avoid any spoilers) when I get there, I promise! <3

It was late when Selirah returned to their private chamber, but Arcann was not there. She could feel him, not far away, but she could also feel his preoccupation, and knew he was busy with Lana, making plans. It would be a very long night for him, but she was ready for bed, and Theron was already there, stretched out under the covers. His eyes were closed, but it was obvious to her that he wasn't sleeping. It was equally obvious that he believed that he was successfully feigning being asleep, so she said nothing to him as she came into the room, making an effort to be quiet as if she didn't want to wake him.

Setting her lightsaber hilt on the side table with a soft click of metal, Selirah turned her back to the bed, heading to her locker. The heavy door opened fairly quietly, and she began rummaging around inside, locating a soft tank top and shorts. Stripping off her armored boots, the Twi'lek set them aside neatly beside Theron's. Her hands went to her waist next, removing her belt and coiling it before stowing it inside the locker and peeling down her pants over her hips, sliding them down her thighs and calves. 

The faint sound of Theron's breathing caught for a second, then resumed a little more roughly than it had been before, and she smiled to herself, neatly folding the pants and tucking them away in the locker before removing her tunic with a smooth gesture, tugging it up over her head, her lekku sliding loose to fall down her back, framing the sleek curve of her spine and the small of her back. Turning halfway towards the bed, Selirah began to dress, taking her time about it. The stretchy, soft fabric of the tank top slid down over her breasts and smoothed down over her ribs, then she stepped into the shorts, slipping them up over her legs and settling them low on her hips. 

Sliding under the covers, she stretched luxuriously, an real yawn escaping her lips as she felt the comfort of the sheets. Rolling over towards Theron, Selirah let her fingers trail over the muscling in his arm and shoulder, appreciating the texture of his skin even in the low light of the room, the faint ambient light from the sconces barely enough to let her see much of him. “Are you awake, my love?” she asked, her voice low, lips close to his ear. 

“Mmhm,” Theron murmured, stirring under her hands, one of his gorgeous hazel eyes regarding her from under his thick lashes. His hair was mussed attractively, half of it flattened by the pillow, and the other half spiking amusingly in multiple directions, and she ran her fingers lightly through it, enjoying the sensation of the silky strands against her skin. “Twi'leks and hair. I always feel like the only thing you'd leave me for is a Wookiee.”

“They -do- have really nice hair,” she mused idly, kissing his jaw and curling up closer to him, abandoning his hair to run her hand down his back in a slow, deliberate caress. “But I think you're safe. They're just too tall for my tastes.”

His laugh was as irresistible now as it had been the first time she'd heard it, on Manaan. Selirah smiled in response, pressing her lips to his throat, feeling the leap of his pulse beneath her mouth when she followed it up by a light nip of teeth. His hand touched her arm lightly, stroking down over her crimson skin as her fingers slid lower over the contour of his hip. His hand closed around her wrist, preventing her hand from moving any further, but she felt his lips brush against her cheekbone, trailing kisses that ended on her lips when she turned her face towards him. She made a frustrated sound against his mouth, but other than a light tug that he resisted, let him restrain her hand as his kiss deepened passionately, stirring her desire almost instantly from embers to a fire. 

She'd waited, knowing he was still working through the things that had happened to him. It wasn't typical of a Sith to deny themselves, and she'd found it incredibly frustrating to sleep next to him every day and not make the most of that proximity in every possible way, but Theron hadn't been ready for it. Now, it felt like perhaps he was, but the messages were somewhat mixed. The kisses were definitely a yes, hot and filled with obvious desire. The hand on her wrist, though, felt like a warning to slow down. She could feel him close to her, and at least part of him was definitely on board. Selirah hesitated, then tugged experimentally at his grip on her again, and this time, he let go. Relieved, she resumed her caresses, her hand on his hip sliding inwards, nails scraping lightly over his belly. Theron rolled onto his back, his breath catching in his throat, and she moved to straddle his hips, feeling a rush of pleasure and desire at seeing him stretched out under her. 

Then both of his hands came up and seized her wrists tightly, and she froze, startled into stillness. His eyes looked panicked, and he was breathing far more rapidly than was normal or healthy. Seli didn't try to pull her hands free, but she did move to the side, kneeling on the bed next to him, letting him squeeze her wrists even though the pressure was quickly becoming painful. “Theron,” she tried, but he didn't glance at her. He looked like he was seeing a ghost, or something that wasn't there, and so she tried again, more loudly. “Theron.. love, look at me. Please.” His head turned toward her, and his eyes focused on her face, the pupils wide. “You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you.”

It took him a moment to process what she was saying, but she saw his expression change, easing away from the panic and into sad, ashamed lines. “Seli... I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I wanted you, so badly, but then I just felt like I couldn't move, and like I had to stop it from going any further. I don't know why,” he said haltingly, his eyes sliding away from her face as if he couldn't bear to meet her eyes. 

“It's not your fault. Don't think that it is, and don't feel guilty. It's too soon, that's all.” She smiled, a little uncertainly, wishing vainly that Arcann was here with them, to help her say the right things. “Let's get some sleep. Arcann is with Lana, he's going to be late. No reason to wait up for him when we're both tired.” Theron's face showed his relief, and even if she hadn't been able to sense his emotions when they were this strong, she would have known that he was glad she'd given him an excuse. 

He went to sleep quickly, relaxing out of the tension he'd been locked in while he was awake. He looked young when he slept, all the worry and responsibility draining away from his features and leaving him appearing much like he had when they'd first met. The intervening years had marked both of them, but Theron wore the time lightly, awake or asleep. Selirah lay watching him for a while, stretched out on her side, but after an hour, she shifted over to her back, one hand spread idly on Arcann's empty spot. 

Sleep eluded her, though. Theron was so close, physically, but he might as well have been halfway across the galaxy right now. It was driving her crazy. Logically, she understood what he was struggling with, and she knew he wasn't rejecting her. But somewhere, deep inside.. it still was difficult to lay here next to him when things were so strange and off-kilter. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being powerless to do anything. Theron's mind had to work through what lingered in his memories and fears, and she couldn't help him, or make the pain disappear. All she could do, all any of them could do, was wait. And she had waited, and waited, and he was -right- there. Just inches away... and she couldn't reach out to him.

After two hours and much to her relief, Selirah felt Arcann approaching, and the door opened a moment later, closing behind him. He came to the side of the bed without undressing first, sitting down on the edge, and she sat up, letting him pull her close to him. “I could feel you... I wasn't going to get anything done with you in my head, tying yourself in knots,” he whispered to her, his left hand stroking her back slowly. 

“Let's go, I need to... I need to -do- something.” She could feel Arcann nod against her, his scarred cheek rubbing briefly against the top of her head with the motion. He rose, lifting her effortlessly with him and setting her on her feet. She paused long enough to pull on her boots and then followed him out of the room, leaving Theron to his rest.

“You should speak to Yariele, or one of the other Jedi, Seli. Patience is not easy for you, but Theron needs you to be patient for a while longer.” Arcann cast a sidelong glance at her as they walked down the hallway, Selirah practically vibrating with frustrated energy beside him. 

“Jedi,” she responded, the answer not -quite- a sneer. “The last thing Theron needs is another passionless, emotionless block of Jedi-shaped ice to make him feel isolated, keella. I will not do that to him. I respect their way as it works for them, but I am not a Jedi, and I have no wish to embrace their colorless view of the world.” Holding up a hand as they mounted the stairs towards the lift, Selirah added, “I know what you meant, and I understand why you said it. But I can wait. I -will- wait. He'll come back to me. To us. I will wait, but I don't have to enjoy it.”

Arcann subsided, falling silent as they took the lift up to the second level, passing out onto the open deck. She sat on the very edge of the decking walkway, heedless of the vast drop to the rocks below that was open beneath her feet. He settled beside her, his legs crossed. “Do you think it would help to have someone else talk to him?”

Selirah shook her head slightly, her lekku tips twitching in small, uncertain movements as she gazed out over the chasm towards the docked Gravestone. “He wouldn't talk to them. I wish he would, but it's just not the way he is. I know he'll work his way through this, keella, but it's so hard to watch him. And I admit, I'm having some difficulty with it as well.” A faint sigh made her shoulders slump, and Arcann took her hand in his, his cybernetic fingers closing lightly around her hand. “I should have gotten to him sooner. What if he's.. what if he never gets past it?”

“Don't say that. You know he will, and you got to him as quickly as you could. No one is to blame but her, and she's been punished for what she did to him. You can't think that way. Neither of you should feel like you're at fault.” Arcann brought up his right hand, turning her face towards him and waiting until her lavender eyes focused on his face. “Theron loves you. I love you. I know you're frustrated, and you're not sure what to do, but you can't do -anything- right now but what you're doing. Be there, be patient, and love him. And when you need a break, we'll go find something to do. Spar. Patrol. Stab our enemies, together.” He smiled, a gleam of humor showing in his pale cerulean gaze as he looked at her with mock gravity. “I can keep up with your Sith appetites alone for awhile, I'm sure.” 

Selirah rolled her eyes, but he could see the smile teasing at the corners of her lips. “You say that now, but you'll be sorry about it later,” she replied flippantly, but her expression grew serious again a moment later. “I know you're right, Arcann. I'm doing the best that I can. But every time he pulls away from me.... It just.. I don't like how it feels. Not because I'm blaming him. I don't blame Theron. But it just feels wrong to me. I'm not sure how else to explain it.”

“Of course it does. But it's not that he doesn't want you, love. He does. I can feel that from him, and I know you can too. He's not rejecting you.”

“He's not, but I still feel pushed away.” She pulled away from his touch on her chin, her gaze moving back to the velvety dark and the looming shape of the Gravestone near the far cliff face. “I know I shouldn't feel that way, keella. And I would never tell Theron that. The last thing I want to do is add anything to the burden he's already shouldering. But it's still how I feel sometimes.” Arcann slid his left arm around her shoulders, beneath the weight of her lekku, and she leaned in against him, resting her head on his shoulder. The two of them sat there while the night gathered outside, the base quiet, and none of the night time crew coming to interrupt the Empress or the prince in their privacy.

But, absorbed in comforting each other, neither of them noticed Theron's presence in the entrance to the lift access. And neither of them saw him head back downstairs a short time later.


	55. Toxic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron keeps trying to do everything by himself. Nox has opinions. And doesn't like it when people touch things on her desk. And possibly has no bed in her room.
> 
> Maybe she sleeps upside down on the ceiling like a bat.
> 
> Warning for brief thoughts of threatening/shaming for assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a ways out from Iokath content. <3 Spoiler-free.

Almost immediately, Theron knew he must have overslept. Neither Arcann nor Selirah was still in bed, and both of them were well-known to be late sleepers at the best of times; especially Seli. Of course, it was entirely possible that they hadn't come back to bed, but the covers were mussed and both pillows had the appearance of having been slept on, so he pushed that thought out of his head resolutely. 

He'd overheard them talking last night. One of the benefits of his particular implants were augmenting hearing and the ability to dampen background noise and isolate conversations, and while he knew he shouldn't have eavesdropped, the fact that the conversation related to him made him feel like he had -some- moral ground to stand upon. It wasn't as if he wasn't aware that Selirah probably felt somewhat upset about the way things had been between them since before he'd left for his ill-fated run to Rishi. She'd torn the galaxy apart looking for him, risked her life and the safety of her people by infiltrating Empress Acina's territory without permission, and done everything possible to bring him home as quickly and as safely as possible. 

It wasn't her fault that it hadn't worked out that way.

He didn't blame her. Not even a little. She'd fought for him, dared imprisonment or worse to find him. He loved that about her. She was unafraid to show her feelings broadly and to anyone who cared to look, though she was capable of secrecy and circumspection depending upon the situation. But every time he started to think that perhaps he was ready to reach out to her, to resume their relationship in full and really connect with her physically and emotionally, something.. or someone.. stood in his way. He could still hear Cynera's mocking words in his mind every time they were alone, as soon as he tried to hold Selirah, to kiss her. _She'll never want you, once she knows that I had you, Theron. She'll never want to touch you again. You're tainted now. Spoiled. She'll see my touch on you every time she looks at you. You're ruined, and she'll know that I made you want it._ Seli meant everything to him, but somehow Cynera had managed to poison the one good thing in his life. And he had no idea what to do about it.

The days wore on, with everyone busy and working hard on the upcoming exploration mission to Iokath. Lana looked frazzled but as always, she thrived under the increased pressure, putting together her team with help from Arcann and Jorgan. Hylo's smugglers were busier than ever, expanding the trade routes controlled by the Eternal Alliance, and Beywan's troops were growing so efficient at working together on patrols that it was hard to tell that once, half of them had spent all their time trying to destroy the other half.

And Selirah.. she spent a lot of her time training. With Arcann, with Major Pierce, with Lyorek, with Nox, with Yariele, even with the Mandalorians and Teryn Jorgan. Her crimson skin hid a myriad of bruises, scrapes, and slashes, even the occasional plasma burn, and Theron wasn't under any illusions that her preoccupation with combat readiness had anything to do with actual combat. Denied her usual preferred method of burning off excess energy and powering whatever Sith passion battery kept her running, the Twi'lek had switched to violence instead. As bruised as she was, her targets were generally far worse off after each subsequent bout. The only ones who consistently came out equal or ahead were Arcann and Nox, the former because of the benefits of their shared bond, and the latter because she was, according to everyone who had sparred with the Inquisitor, kriffing hard to land a hit on.

That wasn't to say that she wasn't getting any of the other kind of passion. He might not have had the force to use to sense her emotions, but he hardly needed it to catch sight of her and Arcann emerging from the woods, or the Fury, or a maintenance closet, both of them looking rumpled and pleased with themselves. Theron couldn't even dredge up the outrage to be jealous about it; what was he going to tell her? That she should be snuggling with him platonically instead of getting horizontal with the apparently always prepared Arcann? It stung, but not because he was angry at her. He was angry at himself. He'd tried everything that he knew to do, and he knew that his feelings were a result of what had happened to him at Cynera's hands. But it didn't stop him from recoiling whenever he thought about getting naked with Selirah, and after a few times of -that- reaction, she was understandably reticent about trying again. She still slept next to him every night, but he had to admit that part of her newly discovered early morning awakening habit was that by morning, she had to get far away from him so she didn't feel too tempted to reach for him and set off another panic attack.

So instead, he found himself watching alone from the bridge as Selirah deflected blaster bolts from Pierce's rifle, sending them with unerring accuracy into various targets set around the field of combat set aside for force users. Arcann was in the small group of onlookers who were watching her from nearby, and Vette was sitting by him, talking animatedly, her little blue hands gesturing wildly. They were both laughing at whatever story the Twi'lek was telling, and Lyorek was a short distance away from them, sitting between two former Republic technicians who both appeared to be vying determinedly for the Zabrak's attention. Several of the soldiers were there as well, and a few of Sana-Rae's advanced students, observing the impressive display.

“Did you learn the forms at all? I'm not sure what they teach you there on Tython, especially in your.. special.. case.” The voice, mild and deceptively sweetly pitched, came as a surprise to Theron, who had thought himself alone in his vantage point. A diminutive, dark robed form stood beside him, leaning on the railing, her arms encased in finely made black shimmersilk gloves.

“I did, yes, but I never got beyond the basics of Shii-Cho, of course. What Seli is doing, there.. with the blaster bolts?” 

“Shien. Her training was extremely rigorous.. I can find little to fault in her forms, though she certainly prefers brutality and strength over subtlety or grace.” Nox fell silent for a moment, watching the blaster bolts flying past Major Pierce, who was incredibly relaxed for someone having his own bolts tossed back in his direction, though Selirah had yet to do anything more dangerous than angle one a little too close to him so that he had to dodge to the side to avoid being burned. “She spends a lot of time sparring,” the inquisitor observed coolly. “I don't wish to seem excessively interested in your personal lives, but I am somewhat curious what precipitated this sudden obsession with expending all of her passions on the battlefield.”

Theron glanced down at the blonde woman uncomfortably. Darth Nox, at the best of times, clearly viewed him with an amused disdain; it was an extremely poorly kept secret that she saw little use in the force-blind and thought Theron was not worthy of Selirah's time. At the worst of times, she'd been known to say such things directly -to- Theron himself, when she was irritated with him, or if he happened to be in the vicinity when she was irritated with something or someone else. Needless to say, she was not really on the small list of people that he chose to confide in. “The upcoming mission to Iokath...”

“The one she isn't going on? I'm quite sure that is not the cause,” Nox replied tartly, her icy Imperial accent dripping with mockery. “You needn't tell me what happened. I can imagine. If I was Cynera and had such hare-brained, poorly thought out schemes as that poor mad creature did, I know what I would have done to you. Ruining you would have been the most important task. She had little care for her own life.. but she would have relished going to her death knowing that she'd sowed the seeds of misery in you and Selirah.” This astute, if disturbing, observation was followed by an even more disturbingly amused little soprano chuckle. “Judging from Selirah's obvious frustration and the exhausted way Arcann is dragging around the base lately.. I am not wrong.”

“I'm not sure what you expect me to say, Darth Nox,” Theron answered flatly, giving her a sour glare and leaning on his folded arms where they were resting on the railing of the walkway. “If you're just here to mock me, then do it and go on about your business.”

“I have lost the knack of being.. friendly with people. It is not a lack that I particularly mourn, Theron, but I assure you, I had good intentions in mind. A distracted Sith is a dead Sith, and I do not wish for her to die. Yet.” The black hood swiveled up towards Theron's face, and Nox's doll-like features came into view, the large blue eyes blinking at him and full lips slightly pursed in thought. She looked so harmless, and even fragile. He wondered how many people had thought that in the seconds before they'd died at her hand. She laughed again, merrily, making an insouciant gesture with one slender, gloved hand. “I'm just joking, of course. I like our Seli. She's done quite well. But right now, there is a fracture between you two that I can see quite easily. Your mother would see it too, and probably exploit it.”

Theron's stiff expression held for a moment or two longer, but then his shoulders slumped in a defeated gesture. “I just can't get the things she said and did out of my head. Every time I'm with Selirah, it just overrides everything else I'm feeling until I can't take it anymore. I'm at a loss, and I know I'm pushing her away from me. I don't know what to do.”

Nox's deceptively guileless blue eyes lit up with a certain amount of excitement. “You should let me help you. I don't know if you knew this, but I have always been a scholar of the obscure and hidden knowledges that have been lost to the ages. Sith rituals, native superstitions, Republic Jedi nonsense.. I've studied it all. I know I have a few possible rituals that could help. Perhaps erase the trauma from your mind entirely, or at least dull the triggers for you so that you can start to get past them without throwing yourself into a panic.” She bounced on her toes with surprising lightness, expounding with numbing detail upon her artifacts and studies and the best possible options, and Theron smiled faintly, shaking his head in amusement. 

The Inquisitor was so dour and ill-tempered that he'd never had much opportunity to see her as anything other than an extremely terrifying Sith, beautiful and unpredictable and dangerous in a way that even Selirah rarely was. This was a side of her that he'd never known she possessed, and while he knew she was also volatile and more than a little bit sadistic, it was a little shameful to realize that he'd never made much of an effort to know her at all. Perhaps it should have been clear to him earlier that if Lyorek liked Nox, there had to be more to her in order to draw the charming and gregarious Zabrak to her company. Theron wasn't foolish enough to doubt that she was still as quick to bite as a Firaxian shark, but he should have spoken with her more often.

She grabbed his hand, her slim hand sleekly encased in the delicate silk gloves she favored, and dragged him off through the base. It was surprisingly hard to keep up with her short legs despite his greater height, and he was practically jogging by the time she turned in at her own chamber. It was a mind-boggling mess, or at least, it seemed that way at first when Theron looked around. There were shelves on every wall, filled with research materials and samples and chunks of broken carvings and figurines. Stasis crates were stacked in random spots on the floor, and the sheer number of datapads was absolutely staggering to behold. There was a desk, buried under materials and empty cups of caf, and a delicate figurine of a red and black gizka sat on the surface, oddly situated in the middle of a cleared, clean space in the chaos of the desk next to what appeared to be an orchid constructed of actual molded glass. 

Nox began flinging things around, digging through one particular pile with singular focus. “How do you find -anything- in here?” Theron asked incredulously, staring around the room in awe. “And where do you sleep?”

“I have a bed. It's... over there,” she answered, waving one gloved hand at a corner of the room that did -not- appear to contain a bed, but did contain a lot of half-opened crates. “I know where everything is. Well. I find it eventually. Khem and Talos.. just Talos now.. kept things organized for me. I guess he can't keep up with me these days since it's just him. You'd think an eight foot tall alien force assassin would be easier to find, but so far, my agents have turned up nothing,” Nox continued, a thread of irritation entering her voice. “I will find Khem, though. It's important that I find him.”

Theron watched her pulling out several datapads and setting them aside, wishing there was something he could do to help that wouldn't make the disarray even worse and feeling slightly useless as he leaned against the desk. Idly, he picked up the gizka statue, examining it. The heavy base was stamped with a maker's mark that a moment's research through his implants told him was a very high end designer based in Dromund Kaas. It made sense, she'd lived there for years and been a part of the Dark Council; there had been no greater power than the Council other than the Wrath, who existed outside the normal chain of command, and the Emperor himself. Given Nox's known fondness for gizkas (One was laying on top of a pile of robes in another corner, curled up and apparently sleeping, and two more were perched on the bookshelves like weird ornaments), the choice of decoration didn't seem odd. But when she turned around and saw it in his hand, he saw her eyes flash with crimson, rage blooming into life in her face, and he set it very carefully back down on the desk. “Sorry. I was.. just looking,” he apologized hastily, watching her eyes as she followed the figurine until it was safely out of his hands. 

“Don't touch anything. Some of these artifacts would kill you if you touched them without proper preparation.” The warning Nox gave seemed half-hearted, and the moment's anger had drained away almost immediately when he'd stopped touching the statue. Theron rethought his initial conclusion that she'd obtained the figurine for herself. That reaction seemed outsize for a favored décor item. It must have been a gift. 

“Would you like for me to see if I can turn up any information on Khem for you?” 

Her blue eyes shifted towards him, fingers tapping lightly on a datapad, flipping through articles and research papers stored on it. “I don't know if you will have better luck, but if you want to try, I would appreciate it. Thank you.” Nox paused, then added curiously, “How do you feel about blood? Yours. I mean... some of these rituals do call for a little. It wouldn't be more than you can spare.”

“.... Um... well, I guess we'll assess that on a case by case basis. Do you really think some of these rituals could help? Push her voice out of my head, or keep me from having such a negative reaction?”

Nox perched on a large, flat storage case, her feet only just reaching the floor. “I do. Some of them are invasive, and I think you would not trust me to do them.” She held up a quelling hand when Theron started to object. “Don't lie, you would not trust me to do them, and you would be right to mistrust me. You know what I think about the force-blind, and I will not apologize for it. Some would say that you may carry a gene for power even though you yourself do not have it, and that may be so, but it's the Sith way to ally with power, not potential future power. I see your value, and I don't discount it. My feelings about your relationship with the Empress aside, you are a worthy addition to this Alliance. She needs her power base to be stable, though, and you are a weak link right now. You need to be a strong one, so I will find a few possible choices like this one,” she set aside one of the datapads, placing it gently next to the gizka statue, “and we'll see if we can't make you strong again. Making her power base stable helps me, Theron. I do nothing from the goodness of my heart.”

“I didn't imagine that you did. But I'm still grateful, especially if one of these rituals can help me. I'm so tired of feeling this way. Of feeling like I'm ..” Theron trailed off, one hand curling into a fist, his jaw tensing in frustration.

“Broken.” Nox's hood lay down her back at this point, and her blonde hair was arranged in a series of complicated braids that were twisted into a plaited headband across the top of her head, and then into a knotted mass at the back of her neck. She still looked more like a prized noble daughter than one of the most dangerous Sith alive to him, even though he knew about the power she commanded. “We all face times like this, Theron. You have to put yourself back together when something terrible happens to you. I'll do what I can, but the success of rituals often depends on the will of the person at the center of the working, and that will be you. You are broken, but you can fix it.” Suddenly brisk, she made a dismissive gesture with her hands. “Now get out. I have work to do. Go make yourself useful to Lana. I'll send Lyo to get you when I'm ready.”

Bemused, Theron let himself be chased out of her disorganized chamber, standing for a moment in the hallway before he headed back into the main sector of the base. Nox was right, he had a lot of work to do, and now he had at least some hope of relief from the toxic voice spewing venom into his thoughts at every turn.

_She'll never want you, once she knows that I had you, Theron. She'll never want to touch you again._


	56. Failure Is Not An Option

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierce notices a chink in the armor. Arcann notices something that he doesn't like. Nox has a lot of opinions. Most of them are rude, but accurate. Lyorek realizes he's a slacker. Vette knows all the good information.
> 
> Conversations abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No mention of the new content in this chapter. Still a little way off!

Selirah hit the ground, hard. The breath left her in a rush, and she struggled to get air for a moment, her ribs aching dully. Closing her eyes, she lay still, her limbs limp, sprawled, lips parted slightly. Waited, a moment, then another. She felt her opponent's shadow fall over her, and his concern rising when she didn't move or react. His hand touched her shoulder, and she kicked upwards violently, landing a kick directly between his legs. 

Pierce made a strangled, pained grunt, and she shoved a little harder with her booted foot, one hand seizing his wrist and the other slamming into the inside of his elbow, buckling his arm. Bereft of the support, and in considerable discomfort, the major spilled to the ground at her side with a crash. Gasping for breath, Selirah laughed, turning her head slightly to look at him. His face was red, his nose wrinkled up slightly with the pain, and he glared at her from narrowed eyes. “Dirty trick, m'lord,” he remarked shortly, and she laughed harder, rolling to her side and levering herself slowly up onto one knee. 

Sana-Rae's students were working all around the training yard, though she and Pierce were the only ones physically wrestling with each other instead of using weapons to spar. Her body felt like one giant bruise at this point; Pierce had landed right on her twice, and she'd hit the ground even harder than this last tumble several times already. It took her a moment to get to her feet, and she offered a hand to Pierce, helping the burly soldier up. He looked at her with curiosity in his brown eyes, so she made an impatient gesture at him, inviting the question.

“I've not seen you train so hard in a long time, m'lord. I don't mean to pry, but it's making people talk. The soldiers are particularly nervous about it. Anything that'd make you work this hard would be something that'd make mincemeat of them, y'know? I know better. I don't think you're preparing for a big fight. I think you're burning energy.” Selirah began to circle him, and Pierce moved carefully to keep her in view, mirroring her movement. “You want to tell me what's goin' on? It's not like I'd tell anyone your business.”

“Personal matters,” she replied. “But you're right, it's not anything on the horizon so much as it is me working off some excess. At least, it's nothing that I know of, but I suppose we've established that a lot of things happen that I don't really have the chance to plan.” 

Pierce laughed, giving a short nod of acknowledgment. “Isn't that the truth? Still, it's good to know, m'lord. Thanks for tellin' me.” Her answering smile was not a reassuring one, and from years of watching her, he braced for an attack.

She hit him suddenly, center mass, her smaller form traveling at a force-assisted speed that gave it more power. Pierce sprawled onto the ground on his back, the breath knocked out of him with the impact. Selirah was sitting perched on top of him, staring down at him with an extremely satisfied, victorious look on her crimson and black features. Her lekku dangled down, the tips brushing his chest, and he looked up at her, watching her expression shift from battle-readiness to something very different. Something familiar. With a grunt of effort, Pierce grabbed her by the throat, heaving her off him and onto the ground. She bucked, trying to dislodge his grip, but he pinned her down, his much larger body still straining to hold her with her force-augmented strength. She laughed, a ragged, breathless sound, and looked up at him with something in those purple eyes that looked like more than just professional appreciation of how he'd turned the situation to his advantage.

Selirah hadn't given him the slightest hint of interest since their brief hiatus at her home in Nar Shaddaa, which was not a surprise at all to Pierce. Sith had their own set of rules for behavior, and he'd learned long ago that hers were often capricious. But regardless of what was going on between them (or whatever wasn't) at any given time, she'd never tried to lead him on, or make him think that he meant something to her that he didn't. He was grateful for that, and for the skyrocketing career and challenging battles that he'd had ever since they'd met on Taris all those years ago. Truth was, though, he had no real loyalty to anyone, or anything, but her. He would gladly die for her at any time, for any reason. And when she looked at him the way she was looking at him right now, there was no guilt about Theron's feelings, or Arcann's feelings. They mattered to her, but not to him, and if she was to crook her finger at him right now, he'd go to her without a qualm. With any luck, the kick she'd given him earlier wouldn't prevent him from performing to the level of skill that he liked to deliver.

And from the heat in her lavender eyes right now, the slightly parted lips, the quickening of her breathing; he was about to benefit vastly from whatever upheaval was going on in the private life of his lord. 

Pierce drew one careful breath, not unwise enough to assume anything until she'd said or done something to make her intentions clear. But the quickly kindling fire in Selirah's eyes suddenly changed, and her attention cut away to the side, her gaze unerringly finding Arcann's tall, white-clad form approaching them from the direction of the base. He could almost feel her go away from him in that instant mentally, with all of her interest shifting from him to the Zakuulan prince, the burgeoning hunger all for him instead. 

Biting back a frustrated sigh, he released her throat, shifting his weight off her and rising to his feet, feeling every bruise and ache. Offering a hand to Selirah, he felt the heat of her hand in his, giving her a firm pull to assist her to her own feet before releasing the contact. Arcann's pale blue eyes rested on him for a few moments too long, and Pierce met the other man's stare solidly with his arms crossed across his chest, refusing to let the cold expression in the prince's gaze intimidate him. Selirah passed between them with seeming indifference, fetching her heavier armored tunic and her lightsaber hilt from the nearby rock where she'd left them. 

“Thank you for the spar, Pierce,” she said coolly, casting a look back over her shoulder with a faint smile as she pulled the tunic on, tugging it into place and settling her gloves on over the sleeves with exaggerated care. “We'll get back to it another time.” There was no possible way that she was unaware of the current between the two men behind her, but the Twi'lek chose to ignore it, merely walking away with the unvoiced expectation that Arcann would accompany her. He followed her after a moment, but Pierce could see the pieces falling into place in the other man's eyes before he turned away from the Major in order to catch up with the Empress. 

Picking up his own gear, Pierce took another route back into the base, looking for Vette. If anyone was going to know the gossip about what was going on with Selirah, Theron, and Arcann, it was definitely her.

**Nox's Chamber:**

Perched on a pile of two storage crates, his legs swinging idly beneath his dark robe, Lyorek examined the translation he was holding with critical red-gold eyes. “This isn't 'into the thoughts' it's 'into the mind',” he mused, making the correction with quick, sharp-edged notation. 

“A difference without much of a distinction.” Melisande sat at her desk, her favorite gizka curled up in her lap. One hand petted the little creature idly, the other was drawing precise symbols on a sheet of flimsiplast with a delicate stylus, her blue eyes flickering between her notes and her handiwork. 

Lyorek chuckled. “You know that's not true. What if it's the difference between fixing what is troubling Theron and turning him into a very pretty, but very empty shell?” Nox gave him a withering stare over her shoulder, but she didn't argue the point, which was close enough to a victory for the Zabrak to allow a big smile to curve his lips. He was ready to erase it instantly if the other Inquisitor should seem like she was about to look at him or punish him, but until then..

Melisande responded without looking at him again, “You needn't look so pleased with yourself. I've decided to have you go over all of my recent translations to make sure that I didn't miss anything, thanks to your little comment.” There it was. Lyorek's shoulders slumped, and his smile died a quick death as she gestured pointedly at a sizable pile of datapads and translation sheets on the corner of her messy desk. “You're welcome. It's a highly coveted task.”

“... I -do- have other work to do around here, you know, Nox,” he attempted, but she made a rude noise in response.

“Too bad. You should invest yourself in the past, if you want to succeed in the future. If we let these rituals and all of this information and research disappear, we will lose more knowledge than we can afford to lose. The Jedi will have the advantage then in the future, and I hope that isn't a situation that you'd like to see occur. Even though I -did- see you creeping out of the room of one of them a few days ago.” This time, the withering look was almost literally withering, and Lyorek felt a brief but painfully sincere stab of embarrassment. “What -possible- passion could you have wrung out of one of those drab little wrens, I wonder?” He opened his mouth to defend himself, and she waved one black-gloved hand impatiently, silencing him before he got out a single word. “No, no. Don't interrupt. It was rhetorical, because the only possible answer is -none-. They have none. So you gained nothing of use. And you wasted your evening just so you could chalk up another mark on your already mark-covered bedposts. Ridiculous. You throw away your talents, Lyo.”

Her words stung, as she had no doubt intended. Lyorek made a couple of minor corrections before he answered, his pride still feeling bruised. “Everything I do doesn't have to be about gaining something of use, Nox. Sometimes it's just about passing an evening with some enjoyable company.”

Melisande snorted rudely. “The reason you've never climbed any higher than your current position, Lyorek, is because you have a marvelously intelligent, strategic mind that is strangled nearly to death by your out of control libido. If you put half of the work into advancement and increasing your power base or skills that you do into seducing every single person that you meet, you would have surpassed all of us long ago. And,” she added, holding up a hand to silence his incipient objection even though she still had her back to him and couldn't possibly have seen him starting to open his mouth, “your forms and saber work have suffered since we arrived here. I never see you working with Sana-Rae's students in sparring practice, though you help out with theory and in discussions, and you should be there every day. If you were still my apprentice today, I would cut my losses, kill you, and find a more promising prospect.”

Lyorek, caught with his mouth still open, left it that way, shocked. She'd always been hard on him; it was the way that she was. But this was brutal, even for her, and he didn't even know what to say to refute her blistering commentary. The truth was that she wasn't wrong. He didn't work up to his potential, and he hadn't in years. The upheaval with the Eternal Empire's assault on the Sith Empire, the disappearance of Darth Marr and Selirah, and the ensuing years of oppression and struggle had made such a mess of the hierarchy of the Sith. At some point, he'd just stopped trying to get anywhere, because there was nowhere to go if you weren't exceptional, or of use to Empress Acina. He'd gotten lazy, and at first, it'd just been a response to the inability for ambition to result in upward mobility. Then he'd just become accustomed to being lazy, and it'd changed from a lull in momentum into a way of life. Instead of working to become better, more powerful, more established; he'd just fallen into the habit of being known for his flirtations.

Darth Nox rose to her feet, the crimson and black gizka tucked in the crook of one arm. The lizard-like creature eyed him indifferently, and Lyorek felt like even it was judging him and finding him lacking. “I know you are better than what you've shown me for the last few years, Lyorek. This ritual has to work flawlessly. And I will tell you right now that I've never managed to get it to work. Not without.. casualties. Theron is Selirah's valued consort... we will both likely find ourselves on the wrong end of her rage and Arcann's willingness to carry out her wishes if anything goes wrong. Show me that you can be more than what you appear to be. Go over my notes, my translations. Find any errors. Find any ambiguous wording. Find anything that can go wrong. I've gone over it so many times that I cannot seem to even understand it anymore, and I need another set of eyes. Take Talos, and make sure it's perfect, for both of our sakes.” She paused halfway out the door, and added acidly, “Consider it a trial by fire.”

Sliding off the storage crates he'd been seated on, Lyorek moved to her desk, sitting down in her chair and picking up the first set of notes. He would get it right, and make sure that Theron came out of the ritual intact, and hopefully also healed from Cynera's treatment. 

Or maybe they'd all die trying.

**Logistics Wing:**

Hylo's wing of the base was full of shipping containers, and equally full of disreputable characters. Pierce, in his black, gold, and red armor, stuck out quite a bit among the smugglers and the members of the Gravestone's crew that chose to spend their time here. The moment he entered the cavernous room, a high pitched voice sang out his name, and Vette plowed directly into him seconds later. Luckily, he'd expected this effusive greeting, and caught her easily with one arm, lifting the small blue Twi'lek and squeezing her affectionately. “Vette, one of these days you're going to launch yourself at me, and I won't be ready.”

“And I'll knock myself unconscious on your armor,” she agreed cheerfully, dangling in his grip without any concern for the distance between her feet and the floor. “So what brings you here to the smuggler's den of iniquity? Looking for some stims?” she lowered her voice comically, putting one hand up by her face as if that would somehow muffle the really loud whisper from anyone nearby. “No seriously, we have a -lot- of stims for some reason.”

Setting her down carefully, Pierce glanced around and then drew her off into an unoccupied area of the room, leaning against one of the closed shipping containers. “Seli's been acting.. different lately. And there was an odd moment earlier,” he began, explaining about their sparring match, and the way she'd behaved, and Arcann's arrival. “I figured that I'd ask you if you had any ideas. You're always the one in the know, Vette.”

Vette regarded him thoughtfully, the humor slipping slightly from her smile. “Usual rules,” she said finally, very seriously.

“Of course.” The usual rules had always been their term for things they discussed that Selirah probably wouldn't appreciate them gossiping about together. The rules were simple. Don't tell her anything, and if she found out somehow, never turn in the person who told you.

“Alright, here's the deal. There's something going on between her and Theron. They're not upset with each other, nothing like that. I think it's about when he was kidnapped, you know? Something happened, and I mean.. I'm not -sure- but.. she's sure been spending a lot of time with Arcann when she's not practicing fighting. If you know what I mean by _spending a lot of time_. Don't make me spell it out, big guy, I'm begging you for both our sakes.” She made a horrified face, and Pierce chuckled.

“I won't, I get it,” he answered hastily, holding up a hand to forestall any of Vette's weird descriptions of what Sith got up to in their downtime. Turning the information she'd given him over in his thoughts, Pierce realized something must have shown on his face, because Vette's expression went from disgusted at the thought of Sith shenanigans, to curious, to worried.

“Oh no. Noooo, do not even think what you're thinking. That's a terrible idea. Stay out of it, big guy.”

“What do you mean? I'm not thinking anything.” 

The guilty look in his eyes was enough for Vette, and she sighed, rolling her eyes expressively. “Yes, you are, and you need to stop it right now. Do not try to get in the middle of them, Pierce. I've always thought it was sort of amazing that Prince Murderous hasn't killed Agent Tightpants yet, but I figure it's because he knows Selirah would bury him for it. If you think he would think twice about cutting you into little smoking chunks, though.. I might have to question your mental faculties. Do not even consider what you're considering. It's not worth it.”

Pierce made a derisive sound in his throat. “Your personal thoughts aside about the matter, Vette.. I don't think she would let him kill me, not for that.”

“No, but she isn't always around you, either. All he needs is opportunity and a way to make it look like an accident, and I admit maybe cutting you into saber fried chunks would be a -bit- obvious, but don't underestimate Arcann. I see him looking at Theron sometimes with this look.. and I know he actually -likes- Theron and he still looks at him like he'd love to push him off a cliff. Sharing isn't really his thing. That's what it boils down to. Lana says he's just playing a long game.. waiting, because he knows Theron probably won't live as long as they will.” She made a wry twist of an expression with her mouth, not quite a smile, not quite a frown. “Pierce, I'm totally serious. Don't get in the middle of this. It wouldn't end well for you.”

Burly shoulders moved briefly in a shrugging motion, but Vette's stare was unrelenting. Finally, Pierce threw up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You're probably right. But I'm not going to say no to m'lord if she … well, she never really -asks-.”

Vette snorted. “She never asks for anything. She's a Sith, and an Empress too. Why would she have to ask?”

“Exactly. So don't expect me to say no.”

The slim blue Twi'lek slapped him on the chest, an action that mostly just made her hand sting painfully from his armor, judging from the way she winced and shook it out. “I know. Just be careful, big guy. Don't get in Arcann's way. We both know what he is capable of doing. Everyone on every planet in the galaxy pretty much knows what he's capable of doing.”

Pierce hated to admit it, but she had a really good point.


	57. I Will Try To Fix You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Lyorek make an unsanctioned trip to meet with Talos and Darth Nox. Theron has reservations about their method of leaving.
> 
> Arcann and Selirah argue about Pierce, then kiss and make up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Free: No new content!
> 
> I need a few more chapters. ;) This one is longer than usual but I had a lot to cover.

**The Fury, Planetside On Odessen:**

“The Fury is faster. Don't take the shuttle.” Lyorek hustled Theron ahead of him towards Selirah's ship, one crimson hand on the agent's hip, the other hand full of a heavy pack. “Let's go. We aren't going to have much of a window. We have to get to Yavin 4. Nox is already there making the preparations for the ritual with Talos.”

“I should tell Selirah, Lyo, because she's not going to understand why we left like this. She's going to be pissed at us both. At all of us.” Theron dragged his feet uneasily, glancing back at the base, and Lyorek pushed him up the ramp bodily into the sleek black ship, slapping the door mechanism and hauling the agent after him inside as the ramp drew up and the doors closed. 

“You tell her, and we're going nowhere. She will not let you go. Not without her. You know I'm right. Nox told you the same thing, and you know she's right as well. Selirah can't go with us.” Lyorek pulled Theron straight into the cockpit with him, sitting him down in one of the navigational chairs while he took the pilot's seat and started pre-flight checks hastily. “I can't really explain to you why there's so much of a difference, philosophically speaking, between Sith like Nox and I, and Sith like Selirah and Marr, but you'll just have to believe me that she would not understand the process of the ritual and would only get in the way of making it successful. We cannot do it with her there. She has to remain here, and you have to come with us.” 

“The Emperor.. Vitiate.. Valkorian,” Theron asked, curiously. “He was..” 

“Like us. But.. not like us. He started out like us, but obviously he's the only one who became an immortal planet destroyer. Probably not for lack of trying on our part... although as I am often reminded, I am a disappointment of an Inquisitor,” Lyo replied with a faint, wry smile. “Inquisitors are absorbed by the pursuit of knowledge as well as power. I doubt he was the only one to pursue immortality or ultimate power. Even Nox..” The Zabrak paused, then continued smoothly, “has lost herself in the pursuit of knowledge sometimes.” His red-gold eyes moved over the console as his fingers moved with the ease of long practice, and within a few more moments, he had the Fury in the air, getting clearance for a routine patrol flight. 

“You're not going to tell them where we're going, either?”

“Nox said not to tell them, because they can't tell Selirah what they don't know. Theron... we're doing everything possible to make sure this is successful, and that you're safe. I can't guarantee it, because rituals can be so fragile and easily go wrong. And I know that's not reassuring. But we've done everything we can to keep you safe. We really do want to help.”

“I think you want to help, Lyo. I'm not sure what Nox's motivations are, but I accept that she is aware of what would happen if she accidentally fried me,” Theron said with a short laugh that sounded mostly nervous, rather than amused. “I can't keep going on the way I have been. Something has to change. So if it will help, then I'm willing to try it. I know it's dangerous. But I can't do this anymore. I don't feel like I'm in control of my life, or my mind, or my body. I hate everything about it.”

The Fury made the jump into hyperspace, and Lyorek sat back in the pilot's chair, relaxing now that the course was plotted and they were underway. “I can tell you that the ritual will involve some access, on our part, to your mind and your memories. I know that's not an easy thing for you to do, to let us see inside your thoughts, but it is not a point upon which we can negotiate. Nox will be leading the ritual, and she will experience the things you want to move past.” 

Theron nodded, though he could feel the clench of uncomfortable fear at the idea of letting Darth Nox root around in his head and manipulate his memories. He also felt guilty for telling Selirah he didn't want her to do the same thing, when now he was preparing to let Nox do it. But this was different.. necessary, he told himself, feeling the guilt intensify at the justification. “You think she would have lied, or not told me what it would entail?”

“Possibly.. she may believe it will be easier to have you ignorant of the process, but I disagree. So I will lay as much out for you as I can on the way, and you will know what you're facing when we arrive. It's still your choice, but.. for what it is worth, Theron? I think you are doing the right thing. It's not easy to let go of that kind of pain. I should know. It's our stock in trade as Sith, being terrifying to people, and knowing where to push to cause a fracture in an enemy. You and Arcann are Selirah's only vulnerable spot. Cynera wanted to damage her, so she damaged you. Outside of the Alliance, not many people even know that she and Arcann are together, so you are the visible target.” Theron's hazel eyes met Lyorek's gaze, and the Zabrak smiled apologetically. “I think she would do it differently, if she had it to do over again, and she would not allow you to be the visible consort. But it was too late... people already knew, even before she disappeared, that a Republic spy was.. valuable.. to her. It was a point of contention in some circles.”

“I'm sure it was. If she hadn't been the Wrath, and above any censure from anyone but the Emperor, I don't think she would have gotten away with being as open about her relationship with me as she was. I was the one dragging my feet, not wanting to be compromised. She... “ Theron laughed, shaking his head. “She is fearless. Nothing stops her. I wish I had her confidence and her utter certainty that everything she wants is hers for the taking.”

“To be fair, she's not often wrong about that.” Lyorek grinned cheekily. “No offense, but I'd jump right in her bed if she gave me an inviting look, and I know I'm not alone in that.”

“You're definitely not. But I don't think Arcann would tolerate you, or much of anyone at all, for that matter. I think that he barely tolerates even me, sometimes,” Theron replied, propping his booted feet up on the console and watching the stars flying past outside. “He is so closed off to me still, but I suppose it's only fair. I'm not very good at being open with my thoughts, either. Now, let's talk about the ritual. I want to understand what I'm walking in to, and we don't have much time before we arrive at Yavin 4.”

**Odessen:**

“Seli. Stop.” Arcann rolled his eyes at her back, because she didn't even slow, or pause, just kept going at the same determined pace through the base. “Don't ignore me.” She cut right, into the hallway that led to their bedroom, but he knew she was going to speak to Hylo and he didn't want her to get there and bury this discussion before he'd had a chance to talk to her. “Selirah. STOP!” This time her stride hesitated briefly, long enough for him to make up the distance between them and seize her right wrist, his cybernetic fingers wrapping securely around it. She stopped completely, but only turned halfway around, giving him a sidelong glare out of her lavender eyes.

“What? I have things to do. Can't this wait?” she snapped, bristling at his grip on her arm. 

“No, it can't wait. I'm not going to let you blow this off like it's nothing. You need to talk to me, right now.” He pulled her after him, heading into their room. She balked stubbornly, forcing him to practically haul her into the room, her expression darkening into fury. There was barely enough time to close the door before she yanked her arm free violently, heedless of the abraded skin that the action caused. 

“Arcann, I don't have time for this. You said that you didn't care, that you felt secure about how I felt for you. Why are you making a big issue out of it now?” Selirah went for the door suddenly, but he was there before her, blocking her from the unlock panel. For a moment, he thought she'd just throw him out of the way bodily, but she skidded to a stop in front of him and then turned away, pacing the floor, her anger nearly a palpable sensation. Despite her prickly external demeanor and her obvious irritation, though, Arcann could feel her uneasiness and a flicker of something that felt oddly like excitement, or perhaps anticipation, to him in their bond.

“Make time for it. I want to know if it's something that happened once, or if it's been frequent? I want you to tell me if it's just convenience, or something more? If I hadn't felt you out there, felt what you were feeling.. if I hadn't come out there, would you have dragged him off somewhere?” Arcann tried to contain his emotions, knowing how easily she would sense them. But he felt so jealous and defensive that he knew it was probably leaking out emotionally all over their bond, and that only made him feel more insecure and angry. 

“Why? What does it matter?” She glanced at him briefly and he saw the genuine confusion in her face. “It happened, you know it happened, it's not anything more than that. I was away, and let me point out that you and Theron were together that same night, and I have not had a tantrum about -that-.”

“Today isn't -that- day, Selirah! If I hadn't interrupted you, would you have slept with Pierce?” His deep voice grew a little rough, and he felt his hands clenching into fists, remembering all the times Pierce had been with her when he hadn't, and Theron hadn't. He was her primary guard, he and Broonmark. There were a thousand times that something could have happened between her and the Major, with no one the wiser about it. “Tell me!”

Selirah was silent for several minutes, and then she sat down on the couch, her expression softening from angry into something less threatening and more simply fatigued. “I don't know, keella,” she said quietly, honestly. “I miss Theron. I can barely even look at him lately because I don't want to upset him again, and I hate that feeling. I hate thinking that it makes him feel guilty about something that isn't his fault. But if I stay around him, I end up making him feel worse. Nothing that I can do is the right decision; staying away does not help, being close does not help either. And I'm wearing you into exhaustion, and trying to wear myself into exhaustion, and it's not enough. I am a weapon without a purpose, Arcann. And I am driving myself in endless circles trying to find something to fight, something to be passionate about, something new to conquer. I don't know what to do.”

Arcann listened to her, and he felt much of his frustration and fear drain out of him at her words, and at the sad, lost look on her face. Her presence in the bond was muted, mostly closed off to him, but it didn't surprise him that she would be uncomfortable with the bond wide open when she was feeling so off balance. It would become impossible for him to not be influenced by her, if she let him into her thoughts at this point, in this frame of mind. Despite how much he wanted to go sit by her, being close to her wouldn't help him remain objective either. So he kept his distance, halfway between her and the door.

“Pierce is one of the only people I trust completely. He has been intensely loyal from the moment he was transferred into my service, and his loyalty has never wavered. When Q.. when … “ her words stumbled briefly, and the Twi'lek cast obviously around for a way to reword the verboten subject matter of Malavai Quinn, one that she always avoided when given the chance. “Pierce had just returned from a black ops mission not long before it happened, and he was riding high on the accomplishment, only to find out that one of our own had betrayed me to my former master. When he realized that I couldn't quite bring myself to kill him, he offered to do it for me. Pierce was by my side then, and he is by it now, fiercely and utterly loyal unto death. That's who he is to me. Someone I can always trust. He has never failed me.” Selirah fell silent for a moment, and she looked up, her eyes meeting Arcann's blue-eyed gaze with determination before continuing resolutely. “Keella, I know that you do not like knowing that he's shared my bed. I would never want to make you feel threatened, and I swear that Pierce is not a threat to you. No one could ever come between us. He knows that I don't love him, and he wisely keeps any feelings he may have to himself. For me, it would always only be convenience. Not love.”

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Arcann exhaled slowly, feeling the knot of fear loosen. He hadn't realized how much of his anger was about the concern that she would prefer Pierce to him; that someone with the advantage of years of familiarity would supercede his own relationship with her. Some part of him had always resented the way that she shared a history of years with Theron that he lacked, and when he'd realized she'd been with Pierce, that same resentment had flared instantly into life, stoking his insecurity and fear into a bonfire. 

“Will you come and sit with me?” Selirah hesitated before making the request, and he could feel, very faintly, a thread of unease that he would refuse her. Had he wanted to, that tiny seed of doubt in her mind would have been enough by itself to change his mind. Her utter lack of self-doubt was a defining characteristic of hers, and he couldn't imagine her starting to question everything, or for her to fear making important decisions in the moment, the way she so often was required to do. 

So he went to Selirah, choosing not only to sit with her, but to pull her close to him, his arm sliding under her lekku to wrap around her shoulders. He could feel her breath hitch briefly with relief, then she was in his lap entirely, kneeling on the couch with her legs straddling his, her lips barely a breath away from his and her eyes so close that he was quite nearly cross-eyed with trying to focus on her face. “I was jealous,” Arcann admitted, forcing the words out even though it pained him to admit that his flaws still ruled him sometimes. He knew that she was aware of it. That it wasn't a surprise to her. But it still hurt his pride to say it out loud. “I was afraid that you would change the playing field again, and I'm just starting to get used to it the way that it is now. I like Theron. I'm used to him. But another person who has known you for years, who spent every day with you, living together with you on the Fury? Someone who was there through so many of your challenges and battles and so much of what made you into who you are now? How could I compete with that kind of intimate knowledge?”

Selirah kissed him, her fingers sliding over the nape of his neck, then upwards over the cropped strands of his hair, faintly gold against her crimson fingers like the hint of gold that brushed over his eyelashes. “The competition is only in your mind, Arcann. What we lack in previous association, we will learn as the years pass with each other, and I think it could reasonably be argued that you even have something of an advantage because of how we can see each other through our bond. You need to stop seeing it as some kind of contest to be won, because that isn't how love works. My love for Theron isn't lessened by my love for you. You know that. I'm not going to lie to you and promise anything I can't be sure I can do, so I won't tell you I'll never love anyone but you and Theron.” _And Quinn._ They both thought the same name simultaneously, and she drew back slightly from him, far enough to make looking at him an easier thing. He'd felt the thought as clearly as she had felt his, but she didn't speak of her former husband out loud, and he knew better than to touch on that volatile minefield. “All I can do is say that I do love you, despite our unconventional meeting and .. courtship.”

Arcann laughed despite himself at that description of their interactions up until his healing on Voss. “Unconventional courtship is... a flattering way to put it, Seli. I hear what you're telling me. I know I need to let it really sink in. It's hard sometimes to believe that I could be here, now, with you and Theron. That I could have a relationship again with my mother. That I could even have a chance at making a different life than the one I had always known.” He cupped her face with one hand, his fingers stroking the warm skin of her cheek and jaw lightly. “It's hard to understand that love doesn't have to be a winner takes it all situation. I still struggle with my jealousy and my envy of Theron sometimes, even though I don't resent him anymore. I'm sorry that it's not easier for me to let go of these feelings.”

“You made me stop and talk to you, keella. Sometimes that's what you need to do, if you have something to say, or if something is troubling you. Just talk to me, and to Theron, and we'll figure it out together. It's not always going to be easy. All of us have things that we struggle with.” His hand moved from her cheek down over her throat, tracing the lines of her black tattoos where they vanished under her clothing. Her attention followed that light touch, and she shivered as his hands drew her tunic up enough to slide underneath, fingers caressing her warm skin beneath the light leather armoring that she favored here in the base. 

“Like Theron's trust issues, or my envy, or the feeling that you are growing dull without conflict to help keep your edge sharp?” the prince inquired, his deep voice rumbling against her throat as his teeth closed on her skin. Selirah's eyes closed tightly, and she spread her fingers against the back of his head, feeling the thickened skin of his scars beneath her palm. “We will find a solution together, all of us. Even with peace, if it truly was achieved, there would still be plenty of battles for you and I to wage,” he murmured slowly, the words tickling against her skin as his mouth moved down her throat, delivering gentle bites and kisses, the heat of his lips and breath brushing against her. “Now, didn't you say you had work to do, beloved?” This reminder was met with a groan of frustration from Selirah, and Arcann chuckled in response, his hands slipping further up over her ribs to teasingly stroke a line following the curve of her breasts.

“It will have to wait, I think. I can't remember what I was going to say to Hylo.” Selirah shrugged off the meeting. It could just as well be done later, when her hands weren't busy peeling clothing off Arcann's body. She tossed his tunic aside on the floor, her hands gliding over the expanse of his stomach and chest that were bare to her touch now. Nails scraped lightly against his skin, then more harshly, leaving red marks behind. He made a low, appreciative sound in his throat, and she watched him as his eyes closed, enjoying the obvious pleasure written on his face. She loved that she could feel what he felt, and experience everything with him simultaneously. But there was something equally pleasurable about simply being separate and seeing it on his face, and in the masculine sounds she provoked from him, and feeling the effect on his body against hers. Despite his internal uncertainty about his scars and the loss of his arm, she found him indescribably beautiful to look at. All power and strength, the prince was a survivor, like her. Someone who had been damaged again and again, but had never stopped fighting. That she had defeated him didn't make him less attractive to her; he shone like a beacon to all of her senses, and she found him irresistible.

“It probably wasn't important,” Arcann agreed, a faint, amused smile curving his lips. She leaned in against him, and he lifted her shirt off over her head, opening his eyes to watch her lekku as they snaked slowly down over her shoulders, the ends shifting independently like the end of a cat's tail. Twi'lek were a desirable race as a rule, but he'd never been particularly attracted to any of them that he'd seen until he'd met her. He wondered sometimes how much of his fury and aggression towards her had hinged on the reluctant desire he'd had to possess her; and how much of that desire had come from his father's obvious favor aimed at her, at least at first. He'd wanted to destroy her for having the favoritism that he'd never been able to achieve, but he hadn't been able to make himself really try to kill her until he'd seen the utter devotion of her people to her on Asylum, out of a crazed jealousy and envy that had overwhelmed him completely. That moment still sickened him, and he hated to see the scar on her body that had been caused by him, even though he knew she had simply incorporated it into her Sith tattoos and accepted it as part of her pathway to ruling. He didn't always understand her motivations, or the way she embraced every passion and lived her life fueled by them. But he had to admire the driven, uncompromising way that she pursued what she wanted.

He lifted her hips, getting her to lean up on her knees as he slid her tight leggings down over her thighs and calves, peeling them off completely after she'd kicked off her boots. Picking her up, he slid her down to his waist, her legs wrapping around his hips tightly. Her lips met his in a passionate, rough, demanding kiss, her teeth closing on his lip, biting hard enough to draw blood. He growled against her mouth, his hands tightening on her waist, and carried her up the stairs to their bed, laying her down on her back amid the rumpled sheets. He could feel Selirah's hands at his waist, tugging his pants down impatiently, and he toed his boots off, helping to shuck the remaining clothing off both of their bodies before they tumbled together across the bed. 

Her teeth bit the side of his neck, at the point where his throat joined his shoulder, and Arcann tensed in pleasure, his hands sliding up the inside of her sleek thighs to her knees, holding her legs apart and settling between them. Their bond flared open fully, and he saw briefly her sight overlayed onto his own, a confusing mixture of both gazes, seeing himself over her, feeling her anticipation and desire flooding his mind. Selirah filled his mind, he filled hers, and at the same moment, he slid inside her body, the pleasure of it rushing up his spine. He could hear her gasp out loud, her hands digging into his hips, nails biting his back, urging him deeper, and he thrust forward fully to please her. In this moment, every insecurity and fear was forgotten, overwhelmed by the sure and certain knowledge of her feelings for him. Awash in her emotions, Arcann felt her touch inside his mind, pushing aside the thoughts of Asylum or his imprisonment of her in favor of the memories of their long conversations on Darvannis while she recovered, and the first time they'd been together on the Fury. 

The two of them both closed their eyes, shutting out the world for a moment and focusing on the feeling; of him inside her, and her wrapped around him tightly. It was intense and all-encompassing, something they could never have explained to anyone outside such a personal link to another person. He released her legs, letting her wrap them around his hips, urging him deeper, and he bent to kiss her, his hand sliding from her hip up over her ribs, fingers stroking over the curve of her breast, teasing the sensitive tip until she gasped into his mouth. Selirah pushed against his chest, rolling him onto his back, staying with him until she was poised over him. Her hips pushed downwards smoothly, taking his cock deep into her heated core, and she looked down at him from her vantage point, letting him see the pleasure in her eyes, knowing he could feel what she felt. “I love you,” she said when his gaze was focused on her face, wanting him to know in this moment that she meant it, all defenses down, emotions open to be read. “Nothing and no one will ever change that.”

Arcann's hands stilled on her body, and the barest hint of a smile touched the corners of his lips, his eyes carrying his feelings in them clearly before he even answered her words. “I love you, too. Now we just need our Theron to be feeling better, and we'll be ready to face anything,” he replied, pulling her down to kiss him as his hips drove upwards, forcing a cry from her lips. Seli closed her eyes, her hips grinding against his, rocking rhythmically to meet his as his hands slid to her hips, lightly guiding her pace until they were both breathless with desire. She lost control first, her thrusts going off rhythm, then going still. Hands on his chest, she sat up over his hips, head falling back and lekku trailing down her back to brush against his thighs as her orgasm hit her, bowing her spine with the release. Her pleasure washed over his mind like a wave, passionate and undeniable, and Arcann bit back a groan, driving up into her roughly again and again before spilling hotly inside her in long, shuddering thrusts and joining her in her climax. 

A short time later, Selirah lay sprawled amid the sheets, her eyes half-open as she appreciatively watched Arcann retrieving their carelessly scattered clothing. He hadn't yet bothered to put any of the clothing items back on, and the view -was- quite impressive from here. She took Theron's pillow and added it to hers, propping herself up a bit so she could enjoy it even more, but the scent of Theron's soap and the natural scent of him on the pillow was a little distracting, even as physically satisfied as she was for the moment. She missed Theron so much. Sometimes he'd hold her while he was sleeping, but the moment they both woke up, there was at least a foot between them on the bed, and it was so disheartening that she'd taken to waking up early and leaving just to avoid the awkwardness of it all. 

A pile of clothing, boots, and lightsaber hilts landed on the bed next to her, and Arcann slid in on the other side, one arm wrapping lightly around her stomach. “I haven't seen Theron all day,” the prince observed suddenly, likely due to the obvious direction of her thoughts due to her nose being buried in the agent's pillow as if it would somehow conjure him up. “Do you know what he was doing today?”

Selirah shook her head briefly, frowning in thought. “I haven't seen him either. He wasn't in the War Room earlier, and I didn't see him in the hangar, or outside.” She dug in her clothing, pulling out her com link and tapping it to activate it. “Lana.”

“Yes, Empress?” Lana's calm voice came over the device quickly, as if she'd been anticipating the summons.

“Is Theron with you?” There was a silence. Short, by any one else's standards, but with Lana's efficiency about information, it felt like nearly an eternity. It felt as though she was trying to consider her words carefully. “Lana, I want to know where Theron is, right now.”

“Empress...” Lana began, and she sounded.. nervous. “There was a routine patrol flight authorized earlier. Lyorek was piloting the Fury. I believe, currently, that Theron was with him.”

“A patrol to which sector?”

“That's the rub. I can find no mention of this mission in my datapad, or where they would have been going. I am certain that he just used that explanation as a viable cover.”

Arcann's presence next to her, and his hand on her shoulder, kept her voice calmer than it otherwise may have been when she responded. “If they're not on a routine flight, then do you know where they have gone, or what they were going to do, Lana?”

“No, Empress. I do not.” 

She disconnected the link, dropping the device back among their clothing and sinking back into the pillows. “Lyorek is with him, Seli. At least we know that much,” Arcann said quietly, watching her. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she examined the situation, trying to figure out where they could have gone. In her ship. “We'll find them.”

“Why didn't he tell us where he was going, though? He had to know that I would be worried about him if he just disappeared. Why wouldn't he tell me that he was leaving with Lyo? What could he be going to do that he wouldn't want me to know about?”

Arcann tried to think of a response that would be helpful, anything that would distract her away from the growing hurt that Theron had left Odessen without a word. But there was nothing to say, and no honest way to ease the truth when he knew as little about what was going on as she did. When Selirah rolled over onto her side, pressing closely against his chest and burying her face against the side of his neck to seek comfort, the prince simply held her silently.


	58. Seek And Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Yavin 4, Theron participates in a ritual with Darth Nox, Talos Drellik, and Lyorek. Alyxia brings the firepower, just in case.
> 
> Selirah lays down the law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Spoilers!
> 
> However, fair warning, we are getting close. :)

**Yavin 4, Nox's Temple Complex:**

There was more here than Theron remembered from his last visit to Nox's private sanctuary. He hadn't realized how vast and sprawling the complex really was last time, either. But this time, as Lyorek led him through the main building, their booted feet hushed by thick rugs on the cold stone floors, he had a chance to truly realize the full scope of Nox's property. Not only did she own all of this mountaintop temple, but it was -very- clear that she was running quite an operation out of it. Nameless, silent servants came and went in the halls, all of them clad in dark robes with deep hoods that rendered them nearly faceless as well. They did not meet Theron's eyes, and the mere sight of Lyorek was enough to send some of them scurrying away hastily. Many of them were carrying devices or slabs of engraved stone, and he could see light flashing from one secluded chamber as he passed by it, but Lyo shrugged off his questions unhelpfully. 

“This is Nox's home. She has opened it to you for the purposes of helping you, but don't take that as an excuse to do your whole agent thing and question her. She is aggressive about her privacy, and she doesn't like to be asked about what she is working on unless she volunteers the information,” the Zabrak finally said as he led Theron across the wide stone bridge, the waterfall's roar forcing Lyorek to raise his voice quite a bit in order to be heard. “She has chosen to follow Selirah. You will have to accept that the same way that Seli has.”

“You know what is going on around here, don't you? None of this has to do with the ritual she's going to perform on me, does it?” Theron paused near two towering structures that faced each other. Two massive Massassi warriors flanked both doors, their heavy weapons warning him against getting too curious about the interiors. Sith banners hung on both towers, and one contained luxurious couches, plants lining the walls, and a fountain. The other looked like a bedchamber, but by the time he'd gotten close enough to get a decent look (and an ominous frown from the Massassi), Lyorek had realized he had fallen behind, and seized his hand, dragging him along behind him until he was certain Theron wasn't going to head back towards the mysterious towers. 

“That's her room, Theron. You just can't help yourself, can you?” Lyorek chuckled softly, but his grip was like iron on Theron's hand, pulling him along across a huge open patio area with flower-covered trellises and benches lining the space. It was unexpectedly pretty and soothing amid all the dark, crumbling towers and temples that made up the place. But they passed through and headed into a grassy area set with a sparkling waterfall and a large, cavernous opening in the side of the rock face. “Stop being nosy. You need to conserve your strength and willpower, so you can get through this ritual and go back to Selirah as yourself again. If you piss Nox off, she'll just turn you into a nerf calf instead of giving you a memory rub.”

Theron balked, digging in his heels, and the robed Inquisitor laughed, pushing back his hood enough to let the agent see the amusement sparkling in his red-gold eyes. “I'm kidding, Theron! She can't turn you into a nerf, calf or otherwise. Come on. Everything is ready.” 

The pathway seemed endless, winding through a narrow cave system. He could smell fresh water, and hear it running from the multiple waterfalls that studded the property. Openings above allowed in streams of light, and the caves, though dimly lit and dark, didn't feel ominous to him. There were carvings in the walls, symbols that he didn't understand, but he caught Lyorek a few times brushing his fingers over the shapes, his lips moving as if he were translating them to himself. “I'm not going to have to chant or sing or anything, am I? I just want you to know that either one would probably be sure to ruin the ritual.”

“I find that hard to believe, Theron,” the Zabrak purred flirtatiously, sidling past a narrow part of the path and then waiting just on the other side of it so that Theron would have to squeeze past him in order to get into the wider part of the passageway. “I'm quite sure your mouth is amazingly talented. I'd be happy to offer myself as a willing sacrifice in order to find out the truth of the matter.”

Theron laughed, unable to help himself, and Lyorek's grin widened playfully in response. “You said that on purpose, just to distract me,” he accused, and Lyorek shrugged unapologetically and slipped to the side, stepping gracefully back to allow Theron to emerge into a huge, open cavern space. 

The tumbling sound of water was present here, and he could see water falling from an opening above into a pool on the side of the chamber. Huge, tropical plants flourished on the walls and cave floor, with alluringly scented crimson, purple, and gold blooms nodding benignly on long stems that trailed delicately down the uneven walls. A huge carved monolith loomed in the center of the space, dark and massive, and on the far side of the pool lay a small chamber. Ruined walls emerged from the floor, roughly delineating a square space where a small stone altar held court. A bowl lay on the altar, ancient and pitted, with a dully gleaming surface marked with symbols that doubtless held meaning that Theron couldn't begin to guess.

Lyorek led him towards the altar, and it was only then that he saw a small, robed form moving in the dark, and a taller, armored, red-haired woman watching silently from a perch on the ruined wall. “Alyxia has no active role in the ritual,” the Zabrak said softly, apparently not wanting any of his words to carry to Nox's ears yet. “She is only here … “

“In case of accidents?” Theron supplied, nervously. “So much for helping me relax, Lyo. The idea that you might need a Mandalorian to put a bullet in me isn't really easing my nerves.”

“She won't be needed, Theron. No one here wants to harm you. We have taken every possible precaution to keep you safe. And that's why she's here. I told you that there are risks, no matter what. But this spell is well-studied. And the ritual she's using to give it added structure and to customize the effects for our intended goal.. we've worked very hard on the translations and exhaustively checked for any errors.” Lyorek drew his hood back up, pulling the edge down around his face, letting it fall into shadow. His dark markings made the darkness even more total, and all that was visible was the gleam of red-gold eyes and his crimson skin. “Try to relax.”

Talos Drellik appeared from another hallway, carrying a carafe of what appeared to be clear water, and the researcher set it down on the altar near his mistress, stepping back by Alyxia. He had a quick and ready smile, and he offered it immediately to Theron, waving his hand in an effusive, warm greeting that felt sort of strange to Theron, given the circumstances and surroundings. But nevertheless, the man's friendliness did ease his nerves a little bit, and he smiled back, both at Talos, and at Alyxia. The Mandalorian woman arched a bemused brow, but she smiled lazily, her green eyes watching him with cool interest. She had one hand resting on the hilt of one of her heavy guns, but after so much time together, Theron knew that was her default position and not a statement of intent, so it wasn't necessarily something to feel concerned about. 

Probably, anyway.

Nox's small form stood behind the altar, pouring the carafe of water into the bowl that lay there on the stone surface. Without looking, she offered the carafe in Talos' direction, and the man bounced forward to get it, his cheerful mien a foil to her far more prickly demeanor. Lyorek left Theron's side to go to hers, and the two Inquisitors began to speak to each other, their hooded heads close together with the taller Zabrak bending to listen and converse with the much smaller Melisande. He could hear their conversation, or at least parts of it, but he understood... nothing. It was a strange sounding language, full of long, polysyllabic words. With nothing else to do, Theron watched them. It was hard to read their expressions, between the voluminous hoods and the difficulty in seeing their faces in the dimly lit chamber, but he tried anyway. Lyorek looked briefly surprised, then irritated, and his gestures while speaking grew more expansive and sharp. Then he glanced at Theron, and away hastily, saying something in a lower tone that Theron couldn't quite hear. 

He calibrated his noise blocking, pushing out the distracting sound of the water and the the murmur of Alyxia and Talos speaking to each other. But the language they were speaking still stumped him, and all he could see was Nox's delicate features, her lips tightly pressed together, her large blue eyes somehow managing to look overtly threatening as she stared at Lyorek. The Zabrak seemed to surrender, making a throwaway gesture with one hand. He sighed audibly and nodded at Nox, separating from her to pick up a gleaming blade from the altar before beckoning to Theron.

“As Nox told you initially, we need blood. Nothing serious, though, just a few drops,” he explained, taking Theron's left hand in his and holding it over the bowl. The water was so clear that it was nearly invisible in the silvery material of the bowl itself, and Lyorek's hands moved quickly and efficiently, steadying Theron's hand and then stabbing the tip of the knife into the pad of his palm, below his thumb. 

Theron drew in a quick breath, but it'd happened so fast and the blade was so sharp that there was no time for anything but surprise after the fact. The Inquisitor let several droplets of crimson blood drip into the water, where to his curiosity, they stayed as globes of blood, even though they should have mingled with the water. Theron blinked into the water, watching it with interest, and Nox moved across from him as Lyorek bandaged his hand lightly and then moved away. Darth Nox began to speak, again in that language that he couldn't understand, and Theron felt his eyelids growing heavier as she continued. She lifted her hands, and he looked at them briefly, feeling a sluggish sense of surprise that she had no gloves on for once. Her hands were delicate and elegantly shaped, but he could see several white scars across the backs and palms, and down the arms. He wondered if that was why she always wore the gloves. 

Then he felt Lyorek's hands on his shoulders, and there was a spark of lightning. It arced between Melisande's fingers, then into the bowl, striking the blood droplets as if aimed directly at them. He couldn't pull his gaze away from the snapping, purple bolt of lightning as it crackled, the lightning seeming to circle the bowl madly, spinning as if it were trying to escape. Nox's voice sang out over the noise of the lightning, and suddenly two words were clear to him. _Sleep. Dream._

His eyes closed instantly, and only Lyorek's grip on his shoulders kept him from falling to the floor. 

Talos hurried to help, lifting Theron's feet, and between them, they laid him on the altar. Nox never stopped speaking, but the lightning had dissipated, leaving a purple fog over the bowl and a matching lurid purple gleam in her eyes. To Lyorek's eyes, she was wreathed completely in a purple and black aura, shot through with crimson that was slowly growing. He could feel her drawing lightly upon him, on his power, and he made no attempt to prevent it, knowing that this part of the ritual would be fraught with difficulty if Theron's mind fought her. 

Nox's words grew quieter, to a whisper, and then to nothing. She laid a hand on Theron's forehead, very lightly, her fingers cool against his skin. There was a spark of lightning, and his body twitched in pain, and then was still again, sleeping soundly. Lyorek glanced at her sharply, and she gave him an amused glance, her eyes more red than purple now. Then she delved into Theron's mind, and the Zabrak saw the agent's hands clenching into fists, his arms tensing as if he felt the touch like an invasion even in his sleep. 

Humming to herself softly, Nox flipped through his memories idly instead of smashing through them, using a delicate touch that she would normally eschew in favor of sheer agony and destruction. But harming Theron would serve no purpose to her, other than a moment of amusement. And she had plenty of servants here to play with, if she felt the urge. No, this level of consideration for Theron's comfort would gain her some privileges from Selirah, if she was successful. And she would be successful. 

There. There it was. Cynera, looking down at him, her hips straddling his, her body over his, and the fog of the narcotics she had given him not enough to eradicate the shame and humiliation. She felt him responding unwillingly to the other woman's clever manipulation of his mind and body, and the horror and sickness of feeling like he was betraying the person that he loved. She considered erasing the memory entirely, but it made no sense to do that. Others knew, and they could accidentally mention the reality and make it into a confusing circle of opposing memories and experiences that would drive him mad when he tried to reconcile them with what he knew to be reality. Altering them, though, would be safer. 

So she changed it carefully, manipulating the memory with her power and her immersion in the dark side. A painful, damaging assault on his body instead became a graphically bad reaction to the drug that Cynera had given him. Complete with an hour of memory about throwing up everything in his stomach, and his captor's thwarted rage at his illness. Gone were her taunts about Selirah not wanting him, about how she would blame him for responding to her against his will; they were replaced with more generic angry statements about his weakness, his failure to have let her get what she wanted to take from him, and from Selirah. She touched and changed everything relating to his kidnapping and his resultant inability to handle any intimacy with Seli, softening the edges, easing the trauma, erasing it entirely where she could and replacing it with less painful images. Then she moved to his revulsion and discomfort about force-users touching his thoughts, and altered it, giving him the ability to trust Selirah and Arcann with his private thoughts and emotions. 

And herself. One never knew what might come in handy at another time, after all. Waste not, want not.

At some point during the process, Lyorek had joined her, his hands on her shoulders, the physical contact helping her to draw some strength from him. It kept her upright as she examined his mind in detail, going far beyond the assault, looking into his childhood, his realization of who his mother really was as a person, of her inability to be a real parent, of his father's previous complete ignorance about his existence and their somewhat stunted father-son interactions after Malcom had realized who he was. She flipped through the details of Selirah's relationship with him, through everything that had happened between them when she'd gotten involved with Arcann. Theron's time in the SIS. His missions. The Ascendant Spear. The Jedi. Tython. His training, his methods. His deep satisfaction when Selirah had executed Saresh with brutal efficiency in front of the gathered Alliance troops. Her touch was light but invasive, thorough. Everything she could learn, she learned. His friendships, his intimacies, his self-doubt, his insecurities, his strengths, his loves, his hates. She examined his sense of self, the faint glow of the light side that was a part of him, as well as the flavor of darker choices that he had made in his life. Then she went deeper still into the core of Theron Shan, intent upon her endless curiosity.

Lyorek watched worriedly as the time ticked past. It was taking longer than it should have, and she was starting to seem fatigued and pulling more from him. Her shoulders trembled under his hands, and then the aura of crimson that had engulfed her up to this point began to gutter and fade, and she shook herself briefly, as if coming out of some kind of trance. “Zhol kash dinora,” she said to Lyorek finally, her hand still on Theron's forehead, providing a physical link along with the psychological one she had forged. _It is done._

Then she lifted her hand from Theron's forehead, and broke the link between them, reaching for the bowl with both hands and pouring the water onto the stone ground. “Vexok sevaka.” _Wake up, there is work to do._

Despite the use of the Sith language, Theron's eyes opened a moment later as if he had understood the command, and as his eyelids lifted, his hazel eyes looked clear and unshadowed. He lay still for several minutes, then sat up with Talos' assistance. “Did it work? You were going to...” Melisande watched him try to remember what exactly she'd been doing in the ritual, a faint smile on her lips. “To help me overcome my problems with being open with Selirah.. right?” 

“Exactly right, Theron. You felt terrible that you had so much trouble trusting and opening up to her. You wanted me to find a way to make it easier for you to trust her. How do you feel?” Nox inquired solicitiously, pushing back her hood. Her golden hair was caught back into multiple braids, twisted and arranged into a complex knot atop her head. Crimson ribbons trailed from the braids, dangling and dancing silently in the air when she moved, and the Inquisitor came over to his side, offering a hand to him to let him step down from the altar. Theron took it, feeling the fog of confusion and sleep lifting, and her hand guided him to the floor before releasing him. Her hands were gloved again, and he had a moment's memory of what they looked like without the gloves, with the scars that had adorned her skin, and he wondered briefly what had caused them. 

“A little strange, but I feel alright. Better. Like a cloud's been lifted. Is that it? Is it over? The ritual, I mean. Is there more to it?” he asked, glancing around the cave with amazement as if he hadn't seen it all on the way into the room. 

“It's over.” Melisande glanced at Lyorek, but he folded his arms, not contributing to the conversation. “Everything will be fine, and you should get to the Fury with Lyo, and head back to Odessen. As it is, Selirah's probably going to stick her lightsaber somewhere I really don't want a lightsaber. I'd rather minimize her anger if I can. I'm hoping that sending you back to her as a new, improved, still unfortunately force-blind Theron will earn me some points. I've done my best.” She paused, then finished dryly, “And for the record, I would have fixed the force-blind thing if I'd found a method. I -did- look.”

Lyorek snorted in laughter, and Alyxia joined him, slapping Talos on the back so hard that he nearly went to his knees. “This is why I've never attended any of your Mandalorian gatherings, Alyxia,” the scholar observed, rubbing what he could reach of the offended area with one hand as he straightened, moving out of reach of any further displays of amusement. “I wasn't entirely certain that I would survive to document them.”

“Good call,” Alyxia agreed, giving Lyorek a sly smile. “Sith parties are just as wild, you know. At least.. that's what I've been told by someone in the know.”

Talos sighed gustily, his face falling into a disappointed expression. “I've never been invited to one. I do keep hoping, though!”

“You shouldn't, Talos. I value you and would rather not lose you to some idiot Sith misjudging a saber throw while drunk,” Nox stated coolly. “Lyorek, get going. If the Eternal Fleet pops into orbit before you even get off the ground, you're going down with me for this. I might even claim it was your idea in the first place.”

Lyorek scowled at her, but he beckoned to Theron, waiting until the agent fell in with him before he headed towards the path to the surface. Looking back over his shoulder before they rounded the corner out of sight, he saw Melisande sitting on the altar, talking to Talos and Alyxia. Something about the scene made him a little nervous, but there was no way he'd get anything out of her while Theron was with him, so he kept walking. There was no guarantee that she'd tell him later, either. But he knew she'd been in Theron's mind during the ritual for longer than she'd needed to be. Whether she'd just been rooting around for curiosity's sake, or if she'd actually done something.. it was hard to hazard a guess. 

Theron seemed to be recovering well on the flight to Odessen. The time in hyperspace was spent in the cockpit, talking, and Lyorek pried very gently around the topic of his kidnapping, finding the agent capable of talking about it in detail without much concern. His altered memories of it would only affect a small handful of people, half of whom had been in on the ritual. A word to Selirah would be enough to settle the others on what they could say, or should say, to Theron regarding his capture and time with Darth Cynera. It seemed that the ritual had been an unqualified success. 

But he couldn't escape the nagging feeling that Nox had indulged herself in some way that he wasn't quite capable of understanding or seeing. 

**Odessen:**

When the Fury set down, Selirah was waiting at the foot of the walkway. Arcann stood next to her, his white clothing starkly contrasting with her black. Lyorek hung back in the doorway, and Theron couldn't blame the Inquisitor. Something in the way she looked boded ill, which was no doubt why Nox had not come back with them. Theron couldn't stay on the ship and wait for Lyorek to be willing to leave the shadowed doorway, though, so he disembarked in a rush, crossing the intervening space as quickly as possible. 

Selirah glanced at Arcann silently, and the prince left her side as the agent appeared from the ship, passing him in the opposite direction, but Theron didn't stop till he reached her. He gathered her into his arms, lifting her completely off her feet. She smiled widely at him, her lavender eyes alight with relief, though he could see that the anger was still present as well. “Theron, you gave me such a scare. I'm furious at you,” she told him, her tattoo-encircled eyes gazing down into his face, looking him over carefully, searching for any visible damage or injury. “You're well? Everything is alright? What happened? Where were you?” 

“I'm fine, love. I was on Yavin 4.” He smiled, taking her in, his hands holding her waist, pulling her close and taking his time kissing her. She widened her eyes, startled, looking a little wary, but after a moment, she closed her eyes, leaning into it, her lips parting for him, breathing coming more quickly when the kiss ended. “Better than fine. I missed you. I have a lot to talk to you about, too. Are you busy right now? Any meetings?”

“Nothing that can't wait. You're really... I mean.. you want to... um,” she said hesitantly, and Theron laughed at her expression, slightly confused by her obvious surprise that he'd want her so blatantly after being away from her.

“I definitely want to.. um. Right now.” 

“I'll meet you there in just a minute. I'm going to send Arcann and Lyorek to speak to Lana. He can debrief with her. Go ahead, Theron. I'm right behind you.” She gave him a smile, waiting patiently as he headed into the base. Turning slowly, she headed across the field to the ramp.

Arcann was waiting, his shoulder propped against one of the ramp struts, watching Lyorek, whose gaze moved between the impassive prince and his icy blue eyes, and the approaching form of his Empress. The warm, affectionate expression that she'd worn while talking to Theron had evaporated as she'd come nearer to the Zabrak, and the look that was left was a decidedly dangerous one. He opened his mouth to try to explain, and she flung him bodily across the grass with a negligent flick of one hand, sending him skidding on his back until he fetched up against a rock with a grunt of pain. 

He could feel her power seize him, dragging him back towards her, and though he couldn't help it, as his air began to restrict, his feet kicked and he struggled in the invisible grip, choking. “I know that this was Nox's idea, Lyorek. I'm very displeased with -both- of you. I could practically smell the sorcery all over him.” Selirah spoke to him dispassionately, her clipped, Kaasian accent somehow managing to be both devoid of anger and seething with it. “I don't care what she told Theron she was going to do for him. But I will know what she -actually- did. Do you understand?”

Lyorek's eyes bulged, and he gasped, twitching and panicking, but he managed to nod his head far enough that she accepted it as a response. Abruptly, he fell to the ground, crumpling onto his knees. Her rage leaked out of her, licking at his skin like needles pricking his body, but from Arcann he sensed very little. The prince seemed mostly calm, not angry. “I understand, Empress. My profound apologies. I know there is no excuse, but Nox feared interruption of the ritual, if we said where we were going. That is all that I know. She wanted to finish, to help Theron forget the things that were hurting him, and you as well. No one meant any harm to Theron. We kept him safe.”

“If you ever do anything like this again, I will not even leave enough of you to identify, Lyorek. I say that with regret,” Selirah continued softly, “But make no mistake, I will not tolerate power plays, and Theron is not a game piece. This Alliance is not Korriban. It is not the Dark Council, and your mistress forgets that I was not under her purview even when she was an exalted member of that august assemblage. I have not forgotten that I was beyond her then, and I am even further beyond her now. She would do well to remember that. And as for you, Lyorek... Take care that you do not ally yourself poorly.”

Lyorek bowed low to the ground, in full humble obeisance, and he remained there until he was sure that both of them had returned to the base. He would carry the warning to Nox, of course. That was what Selirah had intended for him to do. But he had no illusions that it would serve to rein in whatever Melisande was planning.

All he could do was hope that he didn't get caught in the middle whenever she decided to act on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sith language used is translated in the chapter. I used several sources, but since I only used a few phrases, decided to incorporate the translations to make it feel more smooth.
> 
> That Nox, she's a slippery little sneak. ;)


	59. Wide Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah has some things on her mind. Theron's a little too warm and fuzzy about Nox's motivations. 
> 
> All three of them doing a little.. catching up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Iokath: None in this chapter. 
> 
> Iokath coverage will likely start with the next chapter, though, fair warning! 
> 
> Probably. That's my plan. 
> 
> Hopefully the characters agree with my plan.

Selirah lay on her stomach, her face turned towards Arcann and her arm draped over Theron's firm stomach, her eyes half-lidded and sleepy. She could feel Theron's chest rise and fall with his slow, even breathing, and knew he was dozing. It'd been a long day for all of them, and she didn't want to wake him just because sleep was proving elusive for her. Arcann's eyes were closed too, but she could feel that the prince was awake, even if he preferred to pretend otherwise. 

“You -know- that she wants to rule,” he'd told her earlier, in a private moment away from everyone else, before Theron had come to bed with them. They'd been on the couch in their chamber, Seli stretched out with her head on Arcann's lap, reading reports on her datapad while he watched a holovid. When he'd spoken, she had sighed, relinquishing the hope that he would continue his silence on the matter that he'd maintained since Theron and Lyorek had returned. “Nox is calculating, manipulative, and very clever. Someone like that is not going to be content to follow forever.”

“It could be argued that you and I are like that as well, keella,” she'd replied. “And I have no fears that you plot against me. Quite a few of our Alliance members probably have their own motivations for being here that don't necessarily coincide with our greater plan. It doesn't necessarily follow that they intend to be disloyal.”

“It's not the same thing, and you know it. You know she has plans of her own, and I doubt that they consist of you as Empress.”

“Yes, I know. What do you want me to do about it? She's done nothing that I can prove, and she continues to be an asset and a strong ally in everything we do here. I can hardly call her up on her future ideas or ambitions.”

“If you sit back and let her move her ambitions forward, it will eventually be too late to stop her.”

“Do you want me to kill her, keella? Would that make you feel better?” She'd sat upright, tucking her legs under herself, gazing at him curiously. His expression was frustrated, uncertain, and she'd rested her hand on his right hand, feeling his fingers part to let her slide hers between, their hands interlocking with crimson skin against his paler flesh. “It would not be an easy fight, I confess. I may be stronger than her, and I fight quite a bit more often and am more experienced in battle, but she is a surprisingly gifted student of combat forms, and annoyingly difficult to spar against. Her agility far outweighs mine, and she would do circles around you.” 

Briefly, Arcann had given her an insulted frown, and she had chuckled softly, pleased to have distracted him, if only for a moment. “I will remember to test her skills on the field, if only to prove you wrong about my abilities, Seli. Just because you usually come out slightly ahead in our matches..”

“I'm not saying you're incompetent, Ar'eswo, just that she is … dangerous. Far more than most people realize. She's easily underestimated. You cannot deny that you look at her and see something soft and pretty and bookish, and that's exactly what she wants everyone to see. She is incredibly intelligent, and strategically minded, and that smile of hers is like a well-fed sand cat.” She had lifted their joined hands closer to her face, her lips brushing against the back of his lightly in a brief caress. “Do not judge her with your eyes. Judge her with that primal part of you that remembers to be very still when the bigger predator walks by, so that it does not eat you.”

“You sincerely believe that she would kill you if you went up against her, head to head, don't you?” he had asked, his blue eyes reflecting his concern. 

“I think that the odds are so close to even that it's impossible to say who would be victorious, and she has powers that I know nothing about. In combat, I have an edge, though it is thinner than I'd like to admit. If she chose to augment it with spells or rituals to give her an advantage, then yes. I would put my money on her, for all the good it would do me. You would have to claim my winnings for me, since I'd be dead. And possibly grafted with alchemy into a tuk'ata hound, as well.”

Arcann had narrowed his eyes in annoyance at her teasing, but he had let the subject go. She had known he was still thinking about it, though; the prince was very deliberate, and he liked to look at problems from several angles before he tried to find a real solution for them. It was the first time that she'd realized that his father had probably kept his sons and daughter from learning Sith alchemy and rituals to control their level of power and lessen the danger to himself, just like he'd pitted them against everything and everyone to keep them occupied with currying his favor. And it was the first time that she had wondered if he possessed any talent for the arts that were largely confined to the Inquisitors and their ilk, and whether he even knew if he did.

Hours later, she was still thinking about it. The trouble with any exploration in the matter lay quite clearly in the fact that the best teacher would be Nox herself, and after her high-handed interference with Theron, Selirah didn't want to hand Arcann over into the other Sith's keeping even to test the idea. Nox was willing to serve for the time being, but eventually that willingness would end. The human woman was vastly ambitious. Seli knew that the memory tampering had been her idea, even though Theron refused to implicate her any further than to admit her assistance and willingness to 'help' him, much as he'd defended Lyorek's presence and deception about where he was taking Theron. The whole situation enraged her, but there was very little to be done about it right now, and very few actions that wouldn't exacerbate the situation to an unacceptable level. 

She wished her training had included more of the esoteric, but it hadn't been how things were done. And truthfully, Selirah accepted that she had little to no aptitude for sorcery. But Arcann might, for all that she knew. They lay there in bed, with Theron sleeping beside them, and with their emotions tangling freely within each other's mind, and she watched him consideringly through half-open eyes. On Asylum, she'd seen him gather power in an unusual method that she hadn't understood; he'd been overcome with his fury towards her, and HK's heroic intervention had saved her from the power that he'd flung at her. It -was- an anomaly, and now that she thought about it, could have been some kind of instinctive grasp at something more than his strong connection to the force. How could he be the son of Valkorian, and have none of his sorcery? 

“I can feel your thoughts spinning madly in circles, Seli,” his rumbling bass voice said suddenly into the dimly lit room, his eyes still closed but a small half-smile touching the unscarred side of his lips. “What are you thinking about?” 

Selirah sighed softly, and felt Theron's breath catch and then resume under her hand, his muscles shifting as he began to wake up. “It's nothing to concern yourself with, keella, and now you've woken Theron,” she replied mildly, rolling over to face Theron as he drew her close against him, his mouth touching the line of her throat, kissing her skin sleepily. Her fingers traced over his chest and arms, sliding down the side of his ribs, provoking a little twitch of reaction when her nails teased a sensitive spot just above his hip. 

“So I did,” Arcann agreed, shifting to his side and leaning his head on his fist, watching them kiss each other, his smile lingering. “I'd say that's a positive thing, though, wouldn't you?” The feeling of her in his mind was effervescent with relief and happiness, though she showed little enough of it on her face beyond the soft curve of her lips, and that impression alone would have been enough for him to enjoy the knowledge that Theron was feeling more like himself again. Perhaps the way it had been handled was not ideal, though Arcann didn't see as many issues with it as Selirah obviously did. But to know she no longer felt sad when she looked at Theron was enough of a reason for him to be glad that Nox had done her ritual.

Her hand left Theron's hip to crook a demanding finger at Arcann, and he obligingly slid across the intervening space to curve his body against Selirah's crimson-skinned back. His metal fingers traced over her hip and waist, then back down over her thigh, touching her with careful gentleness. He left his hand resting there, the other one propping his head up comfortably, Selirah's warm body caught between his and Theron's. The agent met his eyes, his hazel gaze relaxed and amused, an infectiously charming smile bringing a reluctant smile to Arcann's face too. “Yes, I know.. I look better,” Theron said with a laugh. “Seli, and pretty much everyone, have been free with the comments about how tired and worn out and awful I'd been looking before.”

“You did look terrible,” Arcann agreed, making Theron laugh again. “What? You said it. All I did was not argue with the point.”

“True, but still. Low blow.” 

Selirah laughed, low and soft, rolling onto her back between them and folding her arms under her head. Her lekku snaked lazily above, coiling into a more comfortable position over her head rather than being caught under it. Arcann chose to lay his head down on her shoulder, just above her breasts, so Theron stretched out sideways, his head on her stomach. She rested one hand on Theron's belly, her fingers sliding lazily over his bare skin, leaving the other tucked under her head. “Theron, do you remember anything about the ritual, or about the way it felt? I could ask Nox, but I'd rather see what your impressions were.”

Theron turned his head slightly, glancing up the expanse of her body towards her face and Arcann's. “Not a -lot-,” he said apologetically. “I was... not exactly asleep, but I'm not sure how aware I was during the whole thing. I remember her telling me to sleep, and then I felt her touch my forehead. I could feel her in my head. Rooting around. It's a distinctive feeling, and even as out of it as I was, I could still feel her doing whatever she was doing. But she was careful. It didn't hurt, and it didn't even feel really uncomfortable, or anything. She did what she'd promised, and then she told me to wake up, and I did. I felt so much better afterwards. Lighter.” He smiled ruefully, and Selirah brought her hand up from his stomach to stroke her fingers over the line of his jaw softly, an affectionate light in her purple eyes. “Like a weight was gone.”

“It must be, love. You look, and seem, like your old self again, and I am grateful for that,” she answered quietly, but there was a hint of hardness in the words, and Theron could hear it. From the wary look that came to the prince's face, Arcann could hear it too, and though the prince shot him a warning look, Theron had to say something in response. 

“Seli, she helped me. You said it yourself, I am different. Back to my old self, and I think that I'm even feeling better than I was before. We fought about me letting you read my emotions, touch my thoughts, and I don't feel the same way about that at all. I was worried about the ritual being horrifying, or damaging me and it was nothing. Not a big deal. I know that I should have trusted you, now. Isn't that a good thing? If Nox hadn't been so careful in all of her research and done the ritual for me, would I feel this way now?” he asked reasonably. Selirah's expression was difficult to read as he spoke, a few different things flashing across her features so quickly that he wasn't sure if she was agreeing with it, or something entirely opposite. 

“If Nox told you that she needed to access your thoughts, your memories,” Selirah asked mildly, her crimson and black features set in calm lines, “how would you feel about it?”

Theron considered it. Nox hadn't hurt him or done anything to him. She hadn't used her access to make him do things, or alter anything that he hadn't asked her to change. It seemed pointless to get too upset about it after that. She might not be a friend, but she had proven herself to be a trustworthy ally, at least. “I guess it'd be fine. She could have done things to me while she had me there, and she didn't.”

“That you know of, Theron. How would you know if she'd tampered beyond what she told you that she was going to do?” Selirah's head turned towards Arcann, and the two of them looked at each other in that annoyingly identical way that they had. That look that said that they knew something that he didn't. “You see it, don't you, keella?” she asked him, and the prince nodded gravely in response.

“How would you feel about me doing it, Theron? Looking into your mind, that is?” he asked curiously, and Theron shrugged one shoulder in an oddly nonchalant way. 

“That would be even less of a concern. Why would I worry about you doing anything to me? What would be the point? Seli would find out about it very quickly. She'd probably see it right in your head.”

“He has a point there,” Arcann said dryly. “But it -is- strange that he would feel so comfortable with something that was a hill he was willing to defend even against you, just a short time ago.”

“Yes. I think it's definite that she meddled at least that much. And if she did that, she could have done more.”

They both fell silent, clearly considering what he'd said, Selirah's hand still lazily stroking Theron's skin, fingers moving from his jaw, down over his throat and to his chest. Her fingers delved deliberately lower, and Theron's breath caught sharply in his throat as a jolt of pleasure went through him. Glancing up at Selirah's face, he saw the satisfaction in her gaze before he closed his eyes, his hips lifting slightly to push further into her caresses. 

“There's not much to be done about it for the time being,” Arcann concluded after a moment, his bland tone belying the way his attention had shifted to what Selirah was doing. The heat in his normally cool gaze made it obvious what his feelings were on the matter, and from a physical standpoint it was pretty clear what Theron's own feelings were too, with the sheets tangled under him, rather than covering him. “Since I don't think either of you care about it anymore.”

“I care,” Selirah demurred, turning to kiss Arcann, a lingering, passionate kiss that stirred his arousal quickly, much as she had clearly intended for it to do. “But I'm here with both of you, and Theron is himself again, and I would like to enjoy it before we go back to the massive amount of work that is likely to come with exploring Iokath. Lana may be the one going there first, but nothing about that planet is ever straightforward. We have no idea what we'll be sending the expedition group into, and if it goes sideways, Theron and I will have to go there to try to salvage it, and given our record in the past..”

“It's likely that it'll go very sideways,” Theron finished with a small, breathless laugh. Selirah's hand on him was immensely distracting and pleasurable, but he managed to stay focused enough to ask, “Arcann, you're not going to go if we have to head there?”

The prince was silent for a moment, his forehead resting against Selirah's, their lips close. He kissed her briefly, then answered, “No, I will stay behind here on Odessen at Seli's request, and keep everything going until both of you get back.” 

Theron was surprised, but knew better than to show it and give Arcann any reason to feel like he was not trusted, or incapable. His reign had certainly had its detractors, not the least of which had been their Alliance. But it was hard to claim that he was an incompetent administrator, or lacking in qualifications to handle troop deployments or the day to day running of the base. Whether or not everyone there would obey the prince as they did Selirah and Lana was another issue altogether, but Theron knew that Selirah had to have considered all of those aspects before she'd made this decision. “Good. At least we will know that the Alliance is in capable hands, and safe if Seli has to leave, for any reason.” Arcann touched Theron's shoulder with his left hand, stroking his skin and then brushing the metal fingers affectionately through the agent's sleep-tousled brown hair. 

“Thank you, Theron.” Arcann's response was low, and a little rough with embarrassed pleasure, and Selirah gave Theron a grateful look for his supportive words. She sat up, easing Theron's head onto her thigh and bending to kiss him, feeling his hand slide around the nape of her neck, holding her close. The prince lay back on his elbows, watching them for a moment before he chose to join them, sliding in against Theron's back. His lips brushed the back of Theron's neck, beneath the edge of his hair, and Selirah felt him shiver in response. She moved out from under Theron's legs, joining them, viscerally enjoying the sight of the two men entwined together. Arcann's pale, gold-brushed coloring and heavier muscling against Theron's duskier, more lean body, his hand tracing teasingly over the agent's hip, and inside the edge of it. He hadn't touched Theron more intimately, but was so close to it that it was making him crazy with desire, aided by her own body pressed closely against Theron from the front, her breasts brushing against his chest and her lips on his. 

Selirah bit Theron's lower lip, far more gently than she would have if it'd been Arcann; their respective tastes were very different, usually, and she was careful to only go as far as either of them enjoyed. She could hear the rumble of Arcann's deep voice, his lips touching Theron's ear, telling or asking the other man something, and she heard him respond with a simple affirmative nod, then a murmured “Yes” against her lips. She closed her eyes briefly, her hands gliding over Theron's skin, reacquainting herself with him as if he'd been away from her for months. His lips curved into a smile that she could feel when her fingers brushed ticklish spots, and she smiled back, kissing him lingeringly, tasting his skin. Arcann's fingers found hers on Theron's hip, and she let his fingers twine with hers, opening her eyes again to watch as he guided himself in against Theron from behind, his hips pushing forward slowly enough that she could watch the pleasure in both of their faces.

Theron was lost in the sensation for awhile, with Arcann inside him from behind, the prince's hand linked with Selirah's hand, holding his hip, keeping him in place together. He knew she was enjoying watching them; he could see the heat in her violet eyes, her lips slightly parted. But she gave up her view when he pulled her closer to him again, lifting her leg over his hip. Arcann's hand moved to her thigh, his other hand on Theron's shoulder, his lips brushing against the other shoulder lightly. His pale blue eyes were half-lidded, watching as Selirah's hand guided Theron's cock into her core, her hips arching wantonly forward to meet his, leg tightening on his hip. 

Entwined together, all of them connected to each other, they wrapped their arms around each other, bodies moving in a slow, sinuous movement initiating from Arcann's thrusts, his rhythm setting the pace for Theron and Selirah. Her head fell back, eyes closed, Theron's hand tight on her waist and the other curved lightly around the soft, warm skin of her face, cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed her lips, and she bit it teasingly, her breath coming in quick, ragged inhalations, heart pounding with the pleasure. He knew they were still in connection mentally, even though he was between them physically, and he felt the briefest stab of jealousy that he couldn't feel what they felt from each other. It was hard to feel too much pity for himself right now, though; surrounded by the people he loved most. He knew Arcann didn't feel quite the same way that he did, but their relationship, complicated though it was, was important to him, and he thought it had become so to the prince too.

As if he'd heard him, he felt Arcann's hands on his back and side, stroking his skin, his lips pressing kisses against his shoulder and the back of his neck, making him shiver in pleasure, rocking his hips back to meet the prince's thrusts in a rougher, impatient rhythm. Selirah nipped his lip, her nails dragging slowly down over his chest, and Theron stiffened in response as she ground her hips against his, taking him deep into her heat and driving him over the edge into orgasm, spilling inside her in short, sharp strokes, his hands tightening on her, holding her. He could feel her shudder in release with him, and when her pleasure hit Arcann, it destroyed the prince's control. His fingers gripped Theron's hips, and he drove into him one more time, his back tightening, muscles clenching. His climax hit him last, and Arcann groaned against his neck, the low, gravelly sound of his voice making Theron shiver.

They lay together in an exhausted pile, arms and legs entwined, bodies sated and replete with pleasure. Arcann draped his arm around Theron, his cybernetic fingers resting against the other man's chest, and Theron did the same with Selirah, his fingers tracing lightly over the tattooed line of her spine. Arcann dropped off to sleep first, his breathing slowing to an even rhythm, then Theron. Selirah lay awake for several hours, going over the logistics for the Iokath mission in her head, and wondering why she felt such a deep sensation of apprehension about a mission that had been meticulously planned, down to the smallest detail and technical concern. 

It felt like something was waiting out there. Waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief language note and a little story clarification:
> 
> Keella - Twi'lek term of endearment meaning 'darling'. Selirah largely uses it as an affectionate nickname in the vein of calling a SO honey, sweetie, baby.  
> Eswo - Twi'lek term of endearment meaning 'beloved', gains meaning when paired with a name (in this case, Ar'eswo makes a diminutive of Arcann's name joined to the word for beloved)
> 
> Theron is Selirah's open, publicly acknowledged consort; due to this and to her level of connection with Arcann through the force, she uses more personal endearments for him in her native language, though mostly only when they are in private.


	60. I'll Find My Way Back To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah is keeping her own counsel about something bothering her, but nothing can slow what is coming. Theron and Selirah get some bad news, Lana gets chased around Iokath, and Arcann is struggling with new responsibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SPOILER ALERT:**
> 
> If you haven't started the new Iokath content, you will want to give my story a pass until you're ready to read about it. From here on, there will be spoilers. I am using game dialogue in a lot of places, and also taking liberties with other parts and dialogue. 
> 
> So again.. here there be SPOILERS. Don't continue if you don't want to see Iokath information!
> 
> (But for anyone continuing on.. hope you enjoy it and thanks to everyone for reading and commenting!)

**Throne Room, Odessen:**

When Theron arrived in the throne room, Selirah was speaking to one of the Alliance agents. Her expression and mood were not easy to gauge from this distance, but Arcann was with her, standing a foot away from her throne, and the prince's face was a little easier to read. He looked relaxed, listening attentively to the conversation, but his azure gaze flickered towards Theron as he entered. The agent concluded his report and was dismissed, but as he came past Theron, the man gave him a questioning look. Theron shrugged one shoulder in a small gesture of uncertainty, striding past him towards the Empress. 

She wore black today, full armor, accented with small touches of gold, and looking at the two of them standing together, Theron had to admit that she made an impressive sight with Arcann at her side. The prince had been working hard to get caught up on the day to day minute of running the Alliance, and spending long days here in the throne room, getting to know the various emissaries, agents, soldiers, and ship captains that she met with on a regular basis. 

Both of them were aware that she had been sleeping poorly for days, but neither of them had managed to get anywhere with her when they'd tried to bring the subject up. Selirah only smiled, shrugged it off, and gave them excuses about stress, or being hungry, or too warm, or too cold. Whatever it was that was eating at her enough to disrupt her sleep was not something she was ready to talk about with them. She looked well enough at the moment, and when Theron stopped before the throne, her violet eyes softened affectionately and her shoulders relaxed from the tense line they'd been in before his arrival. 

“What do you have for me, Theron?” 

Theron glanced at Arcann's impassive expression, getting nothing from him to guess at Selirah's likely response to his information, but after softening it as much as he thought he could get away with, he finished with, “There's another rebellion on Zakuul. What are your orders?”

The gentleness in her eyes vanished almost instantly, and Selirah got to her feet, descending slowly from the dais. Arcann didn't follow her, and Theron wasn't sure if that was a positive sign of his ability to separate himself from Selirah's emotions and a growing independence despite their bond, or simply that the prince wanted distance in case she lost her temper at the news. She stopped in front of Theron, folding her arms across her chest. “I have been more than tolerant and I have worked to improve relations between our people and the native Zakuulans, but the time for patience has passed. Make an example of the rebels. Turn their hideout into a smoking crater.”

His expression must have given some of his disapproval away, because Selirah moved a step closer, and Theron had to convince himself viscerally not to step back. He could practically feel the wave of menace rolling off her as he hastily replied, “If you say so.”

“Do you disagree with my decision? Do you believe that I should continue to let them circumvent my authority without a strong response? Allow them to undermine me and the throne that I have rightfully claimed?” Her tone was silky, but Theron didn't fall for the trap of trying to answer the leading questions. It wasn't what she wanted from him, and years of experience had taught him how to navigate her mercurial moments. She waited silently, then relented, changing the subject abruptly. “You're holding out on me, Theron. What's the status of our mission to Iokath?”

“I was saving the best for last,” he assured her. “Lana should be closing in on the superweapon right about now.” Selirah nodded, falling in beside him as he headed out of the throne room. “Is Arcann going to come with us?”

“No. He.. will stay and take care of my appointments while I'm away,” she said absently. Theron didn't miss the implication that she would not be returning to the throne room for some time, but there was no reason to believe that anything had gone wrong, not yet. Maybe she was just anticipating trouble, but she'd been acting strangely about Iokath for a while now, and he had learned not to be surprised by the things that force-users sensed and felt that were beyond his abilities to understand. 

Hopefully their conversation with Lana would alleviate her concerns.

**War Room:**

At first, everything had been fine. Lana was clearly in high spirits, joking with Theron, and Alyxia and Torian were off scouting the area, leaving the adviser to be defended by a few of the Alliance soldiers and skytroopers. 

Theron's stomach had knotted when the first signs of trouble emerged. Contact with enemy forces turned out to not be any constructs of Iokath itself, but Republic troops that fired upon Lana and the expedition, then turned on a group of Sith Empire troops who had come into sight from another direction. He'd seen something strange on Selirah's face when Lana mentioned the Sith Empire. It wasn't the usual excitement that she would most likely be fighting again soon; he anticipated that and was surprised that it wasn't present. Instead, she looked resigned, and tired, as if something she had been waiting for had finally happened. They'd lost the connection with Lana, but Theron worked to get her back until he was successful, while Seli paced impatiently back and forth behind him like a caged tiger. 

“Don't worry, I lost them,” Lana's image said as he re-established the holo connection.

“Lost who?” Theron asked, distractedly, his fingers moving quickly over the keys as he worked to strengthen the link. It flickered a few times as Lana spoke, but then solidified, and he relaxed, focusing on the conversation.

“The Sith Empire and the Republic. They're on Iokath – and they appear to be fighting for control of the superweapon.”

Selirah's cut-glass Imperial accent grew increasingly brittle with suppressed anger, the words bitten off even more sharply than usual as she responded with icy precision, “Every meter of Iokath belongs to me, from the smallest bolt to the largest superweapon.”

Lana nodded, but her answer did nothing to ease the situation. “The Republic and Empire know that. They just don't care.”

Theron shot Selirah a wary look, but she still seemed oddly subdued despite the annoyance evident in her voice. “Why would they risk everything over this one superweapon?” he asked Lana curiously.

“According to my scans, it's more powerful than anything we've ever encountered.”

“More powerful than the Eternal Throne?” Seli asked.

Lana's face settled into serious lines, her expression conveying her concerns as clearly as her response. “Quite possibly. If the Republic or Empire claim it, they would usurp the Eternal Alliance as the dominant power in the galaxy. The fallout... it would be catastrophic.” 

Silent for a moment, Selirah paced slowly back and forth, her head coming up to cast a glance towards the war room's entrance. Theron looked over his shoulder, and saw Arcann there. The prince's expression was troubled, his clear blue eyes shadowed as he looked past Theron to Selirah, anticipating the words that were coming. “Then we have no choice. We can't let this weapon fall into the wrong hands.” 

“How should we proceed, Empress?” 

“We'll meet you on Iokath, Lana.” She pulled her gaze away from Arcann, her violet eyes touching on Theron's face with that same fatalistic expression of resignation before returning to Lana on the holo. “Head for the Fleet Spire, and start clearing a landing zone.” 

“Understood. I'll see you soon.”

Lana's image flickered out, and Selirah brought up the interface for the Fleet, selecting the squadrons that she wished to utilize. Enough to back up their claims, but not enough to leave Odessen and their holdings undefended. “Ships of the Eternal Fleet. Converge on Iokath immediately, and await my orders.” She paused, glancing back at Theron consideringly. “We have a war to win.” 

This time, when she left the war room for their chamber, Arcann followed her and Theron stayed behind, sending someone out to do the pre-flight checks for him while he re-routed necessary intelligence reporting to his personal datapad. He would be going with her to Iokath. The prince deserved some time alone with her to say goodbye.

“I know you're nervous about handling things here without me, keella.” Selirah went into their room, pulling her pack and Theron's and beginning to fill them with the things they would both require. “May I have one of your shirts? One that you've already worn,” she added, and Arcann brought her a soft, worn shirt without comment, sitting down on the bed by the rapidly filling packs. “Don't be nervous. You're going to be fine. I have complete faith in you.”

He watched her packing, tucking his shirt away in her bag along with her second favorite pair of boots, a hooded robe with openings for her lekku, and a small holo locket. “I am worried about doing well here, and how I will be received. But that's not what is troubling me right now, love. I can feel your unease, and I know something has been troubling you. Whatever it is, it is on Iokath, and you will be heading straight into it.” He took her hands when she came over to the bed to tuck something into the packs, and pulled her down with him onto the bed, his arms wrapping around her. He could feel her resist for a moment, her body stiffening against his attempt to hold her and pull her from her task, but then she relaxed against him, her hands sliding up his back, arms tightening around his body. “Tell me that I am not right to worry, to fear for you, and I will believe you.”

Selirah's jaw tightened at the last of his words, and he could sense the strain humming inside her mind and thoughts, her worries circling madly. He knew she had no desire to worry him, but that he'd neatly trapped her with his comment into either telling him the truth, or being forced to choose to lie to him to protect whatever secret she was keeping. “Arcann.. I can't tell you anything, not for certain. I know something feels ominous to me about Iokath. I know that there is something there.. several somethings.. that are waiting for me specifically. I can feel it in my dreams, this sense of anticipation that is outside of me. Something awaits me there. I can't say what it is, because I don't know.” 

Her words were mostly true, but he could feel a small deception in them. It wasn't clear where the deception had occurred, or even whether she knew that she was lying to him. There had been times when Selirah had believed what she was saying, even though it wasn't entirely true... and he had no way of knowing whether it was deliberate or not. “I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you. Being torn apart from you while you're on another planet, not even -with- me.. “ He lost the thread of his thought for a moment, his voice choking into silence. 

His pain was nearly palpable to Selirah. It hurt her to feel his fears and know that she could do nothing to alleviate them, and she sighed silently, her hand coming up to stroke over the short cropped blonde strands of his hair, fingers tracing the jagged lines of his scars gently. “Keella,” she said softly, her lips touching his in a feather-light kiss. “You must have faith in me, too. That I will prevail over whatever is waiting for me. And that I will return to you. I love you. Nothing short of death will part us now, and even that cannot keep me from your side. I will come back. Take care of my people for me, Ar'eswo. I will be home before you can miss me.”

“I have faith in you,” he said against her mouth, rolling her over onto her back, his weight pinning her firmly to the bed. “But I already miss you, and I will miss you even more the instant you are gone. I love you. We belong with each other.” She smiled up at him, her body arching up against his suggestively, legs wrapping around his hips as he rocked against her firmly, letting her feel how much he wanted her here and now. “If you need me, I will be there as quickly as possible. Promise me that you will tell me to come, if you need me to guard your back.” 

“I promise, keella. I will call for you if I need you.”

Blue eyes looked deeply into violet, and his hands slid up under her armor, and Selirah heard latches popping open, the plating slipping loose as his fingers moved over her skin. She was going to be a little late leaving Odessen. But deep down, she knew that she would not return here as quickly as she had told him. So she joined Arcann in pulling off clothing, his and hers, both of them tumbling on the bed and pushing the loaded packs to the floor, and she made every promise that he asked of her, and gave him every drop of passion that she felt for him. 

When she rejoined Theron later, he didn't say anything to her about why she was late. He just took his pack from her, and got them in the air. Odessen and the cares and worries of her empire were behind her for now. Something new lay before them both on Iokath. Selirah sank into the force, letting it wrap around her, extending her senses. 

But no new answers were forthcoming.


	61. Keep The Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann and the female Major Jorgan have a difference of opinion. 
> 
> Assistance comes from an unexpected source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No particular spoilers in this and it's short, but... I wanted to address how things are going at home before jumping back into everything happening on robo-planet. ;)
> 
> Next week will be busy, but I still plan to get at least one chapter out while I'm out of town.

Arcann rubbed the bridge of his nose, watching the information scrolling on the console. Selirah and Theron had just landed on Iokath, and they were largely out of contact for the time being. It was all starting to sink in. She was gone, and all of this was on his shoulders. It was a surprising amount of pressure, and he was more worried than he'd thought he would be that he would fail, or that everyone would throw his past back in his face and refuse to listen to him or let him do the job that Seli had given him. 

Senya had joined him earlier in the day, ostensibly to offer her patrol reports, but he knew she was sticking around to give him some moral support. He'd appreciated her presence, but he was glad to be alone now. He wanted to just work. If he buried himself in the many tasks necessary to keep Odessen and the Alliance going, then he'd have a lot less time to worry about Selirah and Theron. And a lot less time to spend alone in their bed without them. He'd spent most of his life lonely, wishing for love from his family, his father, his mother. 

Now he was alone again. 

“Arcann!” Teryn Jorgan strode into the room, her expression thunderous. The woman had a truly impressive set of lungs, and he'd heard Aric mention more than once that she was magnificent to see in a temper, as long as you weren't her target. “What do you think you're doing? You can't cut back my patrols without talking to me first! You have no kriffing right!” Her pale, platinum blonde hair swung in a long braid down her back, and her light brown eyes snapped with fury. “I want an explanation!”

Pausing the console, Arcann swiveled the chair around to face the trooper, rising to his feet. Teryn glared at him, standing nearly toe to toe with him. She was tall, much taller than Selirah, and could look him in the eye handily. “I understand your anger, Major, but with much of the fleet on Iokath, it seemed wise to keep our forces closer to home, at least for now.”

“We have uprisings to deal with, and they're not only close to home. You can't expect us to simply let these attacks and skirmishes go without a response. I want to speak to Lana!” Teryn folded her arms across her heavily armored chest, a stubborn set to her jaw. “You don't have the authority to...”

“Actually,” a cool, Imperial voice interjected, “he does. The Empress appointed him the interim commander of the Alliance while she and Lana are away on Iokath. You are welcome to dislike his orders, but if you disobey them, it -will- be insubordination.” Darth Nox's black-robed form materialized as if from the shadows, her face mostly shrouded by the deep hood she wore. “What would your soldiers think if one of their leaders, a decorated hero, couldn't follow the established chain of command?” she asked, her voice dripping with poisonous sweetness. “It'd be -anarchy-.”

Teryn spluttered in surprise, her attention shifting from Nox to Arcann, and back to Nox's diminutive, somehow menacing hooded form. “I.. it wasn't..” she began, and then she straightened, her arms slipping behind her back in a loose parade rest stance. “I apologize, Commander. It wasn't my intention to come in here, blasters blazing, and unload on you like that. I would appreciate if you'd liaise directly with me in the future to speak about troop movements, however, so I can provide feedback and have more of an understanding of your thoughts.”

“Of course,” Arcann replied, hiding his shock at Nox's intervention, and indeed her presence on Odessen at all. He hadn't known she'd returned, but it was interesting that she'd appeared such a short time after Selirah's departure. “There's nothing to apologize for. I should have passed on the information to you first, and I will do so in the future. That was my failing, not yours. I have no intention of allowing things to escalate in our outer territories, Major. But for the time being, understand that I want to consolidate our position and be certain we can utilize the manpower needed to continue to deploy troops to the smaller uprisings on other planets.”

Teryn nodded and saluted, catching Arcann by surprise yet again. She spun on her heel, casting one very ill-tempered glare at Nox. Nox's response was simply to smile widely at the soldier, her blue eyes shadowed in the hood but the brilliant grin flashing white. Teryn made a rude sound under her breath and left. 

Arcann waited until he was quite certain that Major Jorgan had gone before he spoke. “That was.. timely. Were you just waiting until someone came to yell at me?” he inquired mildly, settling back down into his seat at the terminal. Nox perched on the edge of the console, pushing her hood back enough that her face came fully into view. 

“You have quite an idea of my omniscience, Arcann. I happened to be passing by on my way to my room when I heard our esteemed Major bellowing at you, so I stepped in. I've no doubt that you could have handled the situation, but even though she may not trust me or like me, she knows well enough that she should fear me.” Somehow, despite this statement emerging from a small hooded woman swinging her legs in the air from a perch on a computer console, it didn't sound absurd. “I hope you will remember that while some resent you still.. there are those among us here who have accepted you as one of us. Don't forget to call upon us when you need help. Running the Alliance is a group effort. It's not a case of being able to order Skytroopers to quell rebellions and run patrols when you have to deal with a lot more actual people and personalities. You will need to rely on help.” Melisande jumped down from the terminal, and tugged her hood back into place, the wide, sweet blue eyes vanishing into the shadows of the woven silk. “That's why we're all here.”

“I think that you have your own reasons for being here, Nox. I appreciate the offer of help, and I'll be only too glad to take you up on it while I'm keeping Odessen running for Selirah. But I know that you played Theron when he needed help, and Selirah is not going to forget it either.”

“I'm certain that she won't. But she and I have always seen things differently, as Sith often do. That situation was no different. I made Theron better, and she got him back the way she wanted him. It may even be permanent, though one never can tell if new trauma will overload the memory rub.” Melisande folded her gloved hands together, her wide sleeves falling over the slender, black fabric covered fingers. “I have no intention of attacking Selirah. You can put your mind at ease. I promise that I only intended to help her then, and I only intend to help you now as best as I possibly can. It's your decision if you want to utilize my skills or not.”

Arcann regarded her silently for a few moments, and then nodded curtly. “I hope that you are telling the truth, Nox. I would appreciate your assistance, but I won't do anything to jeopardize this base or this empire for Selirah.”

“Of course not. I would never expect otherwise from you, Arcann. Anyone can see how devoted you are to our Empress.” The hood lifted and dipped, as if she were looking him over from head to toe, assessingly. “I'm sure you'll do well here while she's away with Theron. And Arcann... please, call me Melisande. Darth Nox is for those who don't deserve to refer to me familiarly. Or for Mandalorians, who seem to take a perverse joy in being letter correct in a snide way. But you.. you are certainly far above most.”

She was gone almost before Arcann could process her remarks, caught off-guard by her way of saying one thing, but making it sound like something else entirely had been her actual intention. He would have to keep a careful eye on her, but he couldn't afford to turn down her help, either. And he had no doubt that was exactly the situation she'd intended to create with her re-appearance here in Selirah's absence.


	62. The Winner Takes It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Selirah reach the Eternal Alliance base camp and find that Lana has unexpected guests. A reluctant agreement is reached, and things between the Republic, the Alliance, and the Sith Empire escalate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spoilers for Iokath will be pretty much constant in these chapters.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> And they let me down hard with Quinn so I reject their lazy writing and substitute my own. ;)

Theron's blaster bolts flew past her shoulders as Selirah engaged more of the hostile Iokath droids. Getting from the landing site to Lana's established base camp was certainly a challenge, but not one that Selirah was sorry to deal with. Fighting felt like a welcome distraction from the seething sense of unease that hung over her, and as she decapitated one droid and spitted the one trying to catch her from behind in a noisy, clanking sneak attack, she wished that all she had to worry about was that nebulous sense that something huge was about to happen.

“The Eternal Fleet's offline, Selirah. They can't help us.” Theron's matter-of-fact statement had punctuated their landing on Iokath, when they'd realized the Sith Empire and Republic ships weren't firing on each other, or on them. Moments later, they'd also seen that their own ships were locked out of action and essentially dead in the water until they figured out how to gain access again. A message to Scorpio had gone unanswered as of yet, and so rather than linger in the landing spire, they'd decided to just continue forward. They'd have to try to find a solution on the planet somewhere, and that would be best helped by getting to Lana and the base.

Coming around a corner, Selirah nearly ran right into a probe droid accompanied by several custodians. Reacting almost too quickly, the droids fired on her as Theron came around the corner. The humming blade of her saber flashed out to intercept the bolts turning two of them back to hit the attackers. The third was aimed at Theron, and she deflected that one into the ducts lining the ceiling before launching herself into the droids. Two more of them came rushing down the hallway, and fired while she had her saber halfway through one of the first group. She flung herself to the side, throwing out a hand and pushing the new attackers away violently with a burst of power. A sharp, burning pain bloomed in her side, and she was spun around by the force of the bolt, a new wave of fury washing over her. 

Theron saw the bolt hit Selirah, but it only seemed to inflame her battle lust to an extreme degree. His subsequent shots ended up hitting decapitated and decimated smoking metal corpses of the droids that had come at them, and Selirah stood in the midst of the sadly beeping remains, the tips of her lekku twitching with pent up energy. He could see the maddened crimson gleam overlaying the lavender of her eyes, and when he started to speak up, to ask her if she needed kolto, she stalked down the hall, heading out into the open. A tram sat a short distance away, but the Twi'lek circled the courtyard, cutting down every droid she could find until there were no more enemies to take out her rage on that were left standing to challenge her. 

Theron came to her, touching her arm, and she turned to face him like a striking snake, her expression shifting in the familiar aftermath of battle into a different kind of lust, her eyes focusing on his face. He laughed, leaning down to kiss her, hearing her saber deactivate in her hand, the purple blade vanishing with a soft hiss of sound. She leaned up into the kiss eagerly, and then shrank back onto her boot heels with a bitten-off curse, one gauntleted hand going to her wounded side. “Let me look at it, Seli.” Theron waited until she moved her hand, lifting the arm so he could examine the score mark. Her armor had largely protected her, but the bolt had been a solid graze and left some burn damage above her hip. He smeared some kolto on it, and together, they boarded the tram.

The base was well-organized and patrolled under Lana's purview, walkers in the main courtyard, along with the shuttles and crates of supplies. Sensor arrays were set up to keep the perimeter under watch, along with the heavy complement of Alliance soldiers and Skytroopers. All of them were clad in the new Alliance armor, black and gold like Selirah's own armor, and she stood in the doorway of the tram for a long moment after Theron had disembarked, watching the activity bustling around.

“Are you coming, Seli?” 

She closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out through the force. She could feel Lana a short distance away, and the Jedi Yariele's warm golden presence in another direction. The sense of unease was so much stronger here. Whatever it was, it was waiting just ahead. Her hand closed on the door of the tram, fingers tightening until her wounded side gave a stab of pain even through the cold coating of kolto. 

“Seli? What's wrong?” Theron came back up the ramp, and she opened her eyes, looking into his concerned hazel eyes. “Is it your side? We can stop at the medics.”

“No. It's fine. I'm fine. Let's … we need to go. Lana is waiting.” Selirah took a small breath, forcing herself to let go of the tram doorway and take the first step down the ramp. She almost stumbled as the sensation of anticipation grew thick around her, and Theron's hand at her elbow was the only thing that kept her moving forward. All she wanted to do was get back on the tram and leave. Whatever, or whoever, was here.. she didn't want to face this yet. But she forced herself forward, step after step, pretending a nonchalance that she didn't feel. They walked into the base together, heading down the hallway to the command center.

Lana stood near a large holo table, her back to them, and further away, near the massive windows, two people stood with their backs to the room as well. A blonde woman, and a black haired man with a touch of salt and pepper in the dark strands. Both of them stood with rigid, military bearing, and she pulled her eyes away from the man with an effort, focusing on Lana with determined control. The other Sith turned to face Selirah and Theron, naked relief on her face as she came to greet them. “Empress! Welcome back to Iokath.”

“I'm glad you're safe, Lana. What's the latest?” Selirah glanced at Theron, seeing the curiosity in the agent's face as he looked at the strangers on the other side of the table. 

“The war's heating up with every passing minute,” Lana began, but Theron interrupted, clearly uncomfortable with the tone of the conversation given the presence of unknown people. 

“You didn't tell us you had company, Lana. Who are your new friends?” 

Lana sighed, glancing over her shoulder at them. When she looked back, her golden gaze rested on Selirah's, almost apologetically. “Our trigger-happy friends sent these assassins, so I took them captive.”

The blonde woman, dressed impeccably in Republic issue soldier's armor, her hair caught up in a tight, no-nonsense bun at the back of her head, turned to face them, her voice oddly bearing the obvious accent of an Imperial citizen. “I -told- you. I'm no assassin! I've come to deliver a message from the Republic.”

“And you are...?” Selirah inquired frostily, hostility in every word. 

“Captain Elara Dorne of the Republic. It's an honor to meet you, Empress.” As she spoke, the man beside her turned around. Before he'd even completed the crisp turn, his profile struck Selirah sharply, and she couldn't restrain the low sound of shock that escaped her. He faced her fully, and she stood staring at him openly, his deep blue eyes meeting hers with a rueful look.

“You're looking more potent than ever, my lord.” 

Selirah just stared at him for far more time than was possible to gloss over even with the simple explanation of surprise at his presence. The silence grew to an uncomfortable level, and though she could hear Lana shifting uneasily on her feet, and feel Theron's gaze moving between her and Quinn with obvious uncertainty and growing concern over her reaction, she couldn't make herself move, or do anything other than look at Quinn, while he looked back at her as if everyone else in the room had simply disappeared. She took a step towards him, and felt Theron's hand on her arm, holding her back. For a moment, Selirah felt a flare of anger at him; but it died almost as quickly as it'd appeared, and she stilled under the light touch of his fingers on her arm, managing to break the silence at last. “Quinn... is that you?”

Quinn's gaze shifted to Theron's hand on her arm, and rested on the agent himself for a moment, naked resentment and jealousy coming from him in such a wave that Selirah and Lana both could feel it. Then he locked his emotions away, straightening into a perfect, rigid parade rest. “In the flesh,” he said softly. 

“What kept you away all this time, Quinn?”

His gaze dropped, and Selirah could see shame cross his fine-boned face, a slight tension in his jaw and shoulders and color rising in his pale skin, flushing his cheeks with pink. There was a story here, and she craved it, wanted and needed to know why he had stayed away from her. The way they had parted... she knew her own culpability in the disintegration of their relationship after his betrayal, and they had parted badly. But here he was, and he could have come to her. Had to have known she was alive, that she was the leader of the Alliance, and then the Empress. Why had he not come to her?

“It's a long story, my lord. Best shared after we've quelled the Republic's petty offensive.” There was a hint of a sneer in his words, and she felt a surge of amusement at the memories of his blade-sharp observations and mockeries of their enemies over the years. _Malavai..._ Was this what she had been sensing? It was certainly part of it, but she still felt that creeping sense of unease. A malevolence, and it was not coming from Quinn's presence before her. 

“Don't get ahead of yourself, Major,” retorted Captain Dorne coldly, turning back to Selirah. “Supreme Commander Malcom wants a word with you. In private.” 

“Empress Acina requests the same, but unlike Malcom, she's open to a group conference.” Quinn's dark brows quirked with amusement, the barbed response not going unnoticed by Dorne, whose expression soured further.

“Get your leaders on the line. Both of them. It's about time we sort out this mess.” Selirah moved to the the holo table, Theron taking a position very close behind her left shoulder. Lana activated the call, and on her far side, Quinn and Dorne stood, their military carriage so identical that it was almost comical to see. 

Acina and Malcom flickered into view, and Acina spoke, her voice coolly polite. “Thank you for extending the Empire this honor, Empress Selirah.”

Jace Malcom added in his deep baritone, “The Republic's glad to see you – and my son – on Iokath.”

“Keep me out of this, Malcom.” Theron's response was sharp and bitter-sounding, and Selirah held back a sigh at his defensiveness. 

“Enough.” She glanced at Lana, nodding for her to continue.

“Supreme Commander Malcom, Empress Acina... your armies have started a war over a superweapon of immeasurable power.”

Selirah looked at both Malcom and Acina in turn, her gaze lingering on her supposed ally. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn my Eternal Fleet on you both.” She saw a flicker of concern in Acina's eyes, but Malcom had nothing but belligerence in his demeanor and response.

“I can explain. But I won't apologize.”

Acina laughed mockingly. “This should be rich,” she interjected as Jace continued.

“It's no secret the Eternal Empire nearly wiped out the Republic. We're struggling to rebuild – and protect ourselves. The superweapon on Iokath is the key to the Republic's survival, and I'll be damned if I'm going to watch it fall into the Empire's treacherous hands.”

“I didn't come here to be insulted!” protested Acina furiously, but Selirah held up a hand to silence her, her attention remaining on Malcom. 

“Choose your next words carefully.. Malcom,” she warned. Malcom had not differentiated which Empire he was referring to with his comment, and she was not a fool enough to believe that he hadn't intended at least a little of that insult for her, both for who she was and had been, and for Theron's loyal presence at her side.

“I know you've shed your share of Republic blood, but that's in the past. Join forces with the Republic. Help us defeat the Empire – and we'll share access to the superweapon, and all of Iokath.”

Theron made a sound beside her, something that seemed like a mix of disappointment and annoyance, anticipating her response to such an ill-chosen series of words from his father. Selirah rolled her eyes, her tone acidic. “Iokath belongs to the Eternal Alliance. More specifically, it belongs to -me-. Why should I share -any- part of it with you? Both of you have trespassed on -my- planet, my personal holdings, and Acina.. while I am certainly incredibly displeased and disappointed at your actions, I find it somewhat amusing to hear you telling me that you will LET me share MY planet with you if I help your dying Republic, Malcom.”

Malcom looked briefly disconcerted, and cast a glance at his son, as if expecting Theron to interject before he continued. “Consider it payment for driving off the Imperial looters.”

“This is preposterous. The Empire openly supported your Eternal Alliance while the Republic watched from the sidelines. You once fought for the Empire as wrath personified. Now you can embrace that power once more... Help us crush the Republic threat. Once they fall, our empires can both partake in the spoils of Iokath,” Acina argued.

“I am much more than the Wrath that I once was, Empress Acina. You may want to believe that you can sweep me beneath your mantle as if you are greater than I, but I am no longer a weapon for the Sith Empire to wield. You forget yourself. I am not your subordinate now any more than I was while I served as the Emperor's Wrath. I am your superior.” 

Lana's expression was dismayed, and Theron's smugly amused, but Acina, though clearly angry, only said, “We can achieve great things, but only if we work together.”

“Say the word, and my forces will join your offensive,” added Malcom.

“The choice is yours, Empress,” Lana spoke up, turning to face Selirah. “Who shall we side with?”

She glanced at the adviser, and then past Lana's shoulder to Quinn's elegant profile. The old, remembered pain clenched deep inside her chest, her heart stuttering agonizingly with grief and uncertainty. Turning to regard Theron, she saw his hopeful expression, the sidelong glances that he gave at his father's battle-torn visage on the holo. Lana's stoic calm, her patient belief that Selirah would make the best decision for them all. It all came down to the reality that for now, she needed one of them, Republic or Sith. Until her fleet was freed for action, she could not sustain a war with the forces that she had, not and be certain that she would prevail. And Acina was a known quantity, someone whose motivations she understood and could work around. When her fleet was free, however... there would be retaliation for the encroachment upon her territory without permission. And for keeping Quinn away from her, as well.

Acina would be reminded why the Wrath had been a name for all to fear.

“We will ally with the Sith Empire.”

Empress Acina smiled, a gloating, pleased expression. “A wise choice.”

But Jace's face twisted with anger, his extensive scarring pulling at his right eye and mouth, wounds that Selirah recalled he had earned in a failed attempt to kill Darth Malgus. “Sith never listen to reason,” he spat angrily. “Dorne! Do it.”

Elara Dorne held up her hand, a detonator locked in her grip. “For the Republic!” she shouted, hitting the detonator button. An explosion rocked the base as she fled past the table, throwing a flashbang grenade. Both Quinn and Theron flung themselves at Selirah, but she backed up a step, indifferently letting both men crash right into each other as she and Lana raised a force barrier to protect the entire group from any shards or fragments from the explosion. The two Sith glanced at each other, a faint smile quirking the corner of Lana's lips as Theron and Quinn picked themselves up off the floor, looking decidedly sheepish. 

“She got away,” Theron said disgustedly, dusting off his pants and giving Selirah a reproachful look that only made her grin in response.

“We'll deal with her later,” Seli answered, one hand going to her side, the blaster burn aching dully from her sudden movement. Quinn came to her without a word, and she lifted her hand automatically, not even thinking of what it looked like that she so easily fell back into their old habits. But she allowed him to tend to her, bandaging the wound after layering healing and pain analgesic gels across the burned flesh.

“Empress!” Acina's voice rang out, and Selirah remembered belatedly that the Sith Empire's leader was still on the holo. “The Republic has launched their attack!” The sound of muffled explosions and blaster fire sounded over the link, and Selirah nodded decisively as Quinn rose to his feet, stepping back from her diffidently as Theron scowled at him. 

“Fight back with everything you've got. We're on our way, Acina.” Selirah nodded to Lana, and the blonde woman disconnected the link. She turned her attention to Quinn, her tone calm but decisive. “Major Quinn, I need you here with Lana, defending my base. We'll catch up soon, I promise.”

Quinn's dark blue eyes, completely unchanged in a face that had borne the passage of years very lightly, met hers. He gave her a respectful bow, that of a military officer to his sovereign. “I'll hold you to it, my lord,” he said crisply, and a glimmer of humor lit his eyes, one that was echoed in Selirah's violet eyes as a startled smile appeared on her lips with both of them remembering with clarity the happier times, and the passionate situations, in which he had made that same statement. “Come back safely.” 

Lana spoke up hastily, trying to redirect everyone's attention to the war going on. “May the force serve us all.” Selirah stepped back from Quinn, turning on her heel and walking out of the room with Theron trailing her, the agent's expression thunderous. Turning to face Quinn, Lana said coolly, “Let me offer a piece of advice, Major Quinn. She is not the woman that you knew years ago. There is much that has changed, and people that are a part of her life that would not take well to any attempts to renew your affections to your former wife.” 

Quinn met her bright gold gaze with dignity, his arms folded across his chest. “I am fully aware that if Theron Shan is still with her, the likelihood is high that they are still together in the romantic sense, Lord Beniko. I have no intention of pursuing anything that she does not wish me to pursue,” he replied ambiguously, and Lana sighed.

“That's exactly what I'm afraid of. And please.. just Lana.” She paced back and forth, her thoughts tangled over what was acceptable for her to tell Quinn, and what would be taken badly by Selirah. Arcann was definitely not on the list of acceptable things to mention, even though the prince's reaction to the return of Selirah's Imperial former husband was likely to be explosive, to say the least. And Major Pierce's presence in her personal guard was unlikely to be a subject that would resonate well with Quinn, so that was out as well. She contained herself to the obvious. “Selirah and Theron are very serious. They have been together for years, and renewed their relationship the moment they found each other again on Odessen. She loves him, and he loves her, and he is her consort. Of course, you are aware of Sith appetites, and you have a long history with her as well. But you are a relic from her old life, Major Quinn. Your betrayal is what led to losing her, not her time in carbonite, or her war against the Eternal Empire, and definitely not Theron Shan. Be careful before you think to upend things in a situation that you do not understand the subtleties of in the least. There is more at stake than just her affections.”

“I have no illusions that she is going to throw herself back into my arms after what I did to her, Lana.” His use of her name was stilted and uncomfortable, but Quinn pushed onwards doggedly. “She was rightfully furious with me, and her choice to let me live was unexpectedly merciful. I had hoped that perhaps she would still care for me, even though so much time had passed, but I will not cause any trouble of my own volition.”

“But you also won't say no to her, if she beckons to you,” Lana said flatly, and Quinn shrugged his shoulders.

“She is my wife, Lana, and I love her still. Nothing would stand in the way of my returning to her side if it was what she wished.”

“Be careful, Quinn. There is more than you know in the way of that ever happening. And she is your -former- wife.”

“You are mistaken, or misinformed. She left me, that is true, but my lord never formally divorced me,” Quinn said smugly. “I may be exiled from her side and even replaced in her affections, but I am still her husband, at least for now.” His patrician features fell ever so slightly as he added, “I know that could change. I had a good reason for being out of contact for a long time, but more recently I must admit she may not be pleased to know where I was. But I hope that she will forgive that transgression.”

“I cannot begin to guess what she will choose to do. But I wanted to warn you, and I have done so, as much as I feel is appropriate. All else will have to come from Selirah herself. Tread carefully, Major Quinn.”

“I will endeavor to do so, my lord.”

“Lana. Now let's make sure that the base is properly secure, shall we?” Lana turned away, failing to see the stubbornly determined look on Malavai Quinn's face as he fell in with the adviser and into the rhythm of working once again on Selirah's team.

His place might be usurped for the time being, but no one had ever accused Quinn of lacking patience.


	63. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Theron have a serious conversation. Also they wreck a Republic incursion while doing so. Acina is a little too self-congratulatory. Alyxia is snide. 
> 
> Quinn and Selirah discuss some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spoilers for Iokath continue!**
> 
> In particular for the Quinn conversation, though I have altered when it actually occurs and the conclusion of it.

**Acina's Imperial Base, Iokath:**

The battle at the Imperial base went reasonably smoothly. Theron knew that Selirah's injured side was still giving her some discomfort. He could see it in the way she fought, far more defensively than was her typical manner. At least, that was his first thought. The third, or fourth time that she held back on attacking a group of Republic soldiers, hanging back for several moments and then engaging, he began to wonder if there was another reason for her reticence. Like, perhaps one back at the Alliance base, wearing an Imperial military uniform. “Come back safely,” Major Quinn had told her, and now here she was, hesitating instead of launching herself into her enemies as if she were an unstoppable force.

Heavy artillery fire smashed into the ground near them, driving both of them back behind some large storage containers, and Theron knelt there, glancing around the edge. “It's a walker. We're going to have to take it down or it's going to decimate the Imperial forces here.”

Selirah nodded, sitting next to him cross-legged, her lekku wrapped around her neck like a crimson and black scarf. She looked relaxed, though she was breathing a little rapidly still from dashing into cover at the first round of bolts from the walker. “I know. Theron.. “ she paused uncertainly, and then continued. “I'm sorry that I couldn't find a better solution with your father. I'm not pleased with Acina for her actions here either, and I have no intention of letting her trespass without a response. But she -was- correct that they have supported us and put themselves at risk. They stepped up and helped us against Vaylin at great personal cost to their own strength, and the Republic was content to sit back and watch.” Her violet eyes lifted to his face, and she met his eyes resolutely. “I made the only choice that made sense to me. The only one that I -could- make. I would have tried to find a way to cease the hostilities on Iokath with your father, if he had allowed it instead of ordering Dorne to sabotage us and run. You do know that, don't you?”

“Of course I do, Seli. I just... I can't help but think that Acina engineered the situation in her favor by putting Major Quinn in front of you as her emissary. She had to know that whether you took the opportunity to take revenge or were pleased to see him, either way... his presence would sway you.” Theron flinched as several heavy bolts slammed into the containers they were crouched behind, but Selirah didn't even move, her attention never wavering from his face. 

“Yes, she certainly manipulated the situation so that it favored her. That's what strong leaders do. I would have done the same, had I such a hand to play against her or your father,” she replied calmly. “Your father would have used you against me, if he could have. I have no doubt that was his initial intention by calling attention to you in the holo call. Your reaction ruined his hopes in that direction, so he tried flattering me instead, when you know as well as I that he hates me and everything that I stand for.”

Theron frowned, but he couldn't honestly argue the point she'd made. His father did hate the Sith, and he had particular cause to hate Selirah for everything she'd done to damage the Republic in her years as Wrath. “If you know she manipulated things by using Quinn, why did you agree to join her?”

“Theron, it was the only decision that made sense at that time, and I stand by it now as well. Acina is a lot of things, but I understand her, and the Empire. I can anticipate her, and I know what she is likely to do. If your father had the superweapon in his possession, tell me that you don't think he would use it on us to take back the power in the galaxy for the Republic.”

He got to his feet slowly, his blaster hilts a familiar weight in his hands. “He wouldn't use it on us. Not without knowing that he wasn't going to kill me too. I'm not going to pretend that he wouldn't use it. He's a soldier, and winning wars is what he does. But he wouldn't just annihilate me like that. I'm his son, and he's not like my mother.” Theron looked around the corner of the container, and the walker was firing on some of Acina's emplacements, trading shots with a defensive battery. “We don't even know what this thing can do yet, and I don't think Malcom would risk destroying billions of people who have nothing to do with the war, and aren't soldiers. It'd be monstrous.”

Selirah rose, moving past him into the open. He started to open his mouth to warn her to watch out, glancing past her to see the walker's guns swiveling towards their position. “I hope you're right about that,” she said, so quietly he could barely hear her over the sound of the first bolt leaving the massive guns. But the Twi'lek was already gone when the bolt hit the ground near where she had stood, crossing the distance with force-assisted speed and power. The hesitation he'd noticed in her before was gone, and she launched the attack with brutal efficiency, fearlessly assaulting the walker. Theron ran to join her, firing with both blasters in an attempt to slow the walker's movements and attacks, but Selirah took the thing apart, saber strike by saber strike, surgically cutting through joints and gun barrels, separating hoses, and finally severing one of the mechanical legs. The walker swayed drunkenly, and both of them could hear voices shouting from inside as the machine went down in a heap with a loud crash. She walked up to the view port in the cockpit and pushed her arm into it, along with her saber, her wrist flicking twice in a sharp, impatient motion. 

The shouting stopped.

“I think you may be unpleasantly surprised at what the Republic is willing to do in order to regain power,” she continued in a conversational tone, and Theron realized she was still having the talk that they'd been in the middle of when she'd gone after the walker. Selirah headed back towards the main base, walking slowly, favoring her injured side slightly. “There was desperation in his actions earlier. Acina sounded equally desperate. Things are shifting in the galaxy.” 

Theron followed along, keeping close to her injured side. It was somewhat jarring for him to realize how untroubled he was by the presence of the Sith and all of the Imperial military troops on Acina's base. He had grown so accustomed to them in the Alliance, and now he didn't feel out of place or in any type of immediate danger while walking openly through an Imperial camp with the former's Emperor's Wrath by his side. She was correct. Things were shifting in the galaxy, and not necessarily for the better. It troubled him that she had refused to ally with the Republic, but her reasons were as calmly sound as always. Perhaps he'd just hoped that this time, things would be different, and he had to admit that part of it was the longing to know his father better, and understand him. 

Their relationship had been distant and stilted since they had discovered each other, and Theron had not been able to really connect with his father in any meaningful way. Both of them were too set in their ways by the time they'd known they were father and son, and Theron's choice to ally with Lana again and rejoin Selirah had not gone over well at all with Jace. They'd argued, shouted; and Theron had left. Since then, they had barely spoken and hadn't seen each other at all in person. If Acina was here on Iokath, it made sense that Malcom had come to oversee the war himself as well. It was hard to decide how he felt about the idea of seeing his father again, particularly now when Theron had stayed by Seli when she chose to ally with the Empire. He knew what his father would think of that decision, and that he wouldn't care why she did it. He saw her as just another Sith, Like Malgus, like Acina, like the Emperor, like all of them. There was no way to make him understand why he'd made the choices that he had or why Selirah and Lana were worthy of knowing, and his father was certainly never going to understand him accepting an alliance with the Empire.

And the truth was, Theron struggled with that decision too. He trusted Selirah. He would never have joined the Alliance if he hadn't. But he knew it was hard for her to give a chance to the Republic. He knew Malcom had goaded her in that room, and tried to use Theron himself as a bargaining chip, and that neither thing had pleased her in the least. But allying with the Sith after she'd nearly been murdered on Dromund Kaas by Acina's own Minister... it made him uneasy to say the very least. Selirah was typically cavalier about the whole thing. She'd been raised in the Empire, and she had dealt with numerous betrayals in the past and survived them. To her, perhaps it didn't seem so much of a red flag as it did to him.

And speaking of betrayals. “Seli. About Quinn..” Theron began slowly, and she stopped, turning towards him. 

“I know that it was hard to see him there, and see us together. I know that it's going to be complicated for him to be around, Theron. But Quinn is a Major in Acina's command, not mine. He has not returned to … to my service,” Selirah answered, her words chosen with obvious care. 

“And if he did? Return to your service? What would happen then?” 

“Oh, Theron... I don't know. I don't know if he would even want to, when he's found his footing in Acina's employ. It's a favored position, and I'm certain she appreciates his expertise and values his contributions. He may be very content there. Why are you worrying about something that may never happen? If he decides to join us, then we will talk about it. We have much larger problems to worry about than Quinn right now, wouldn't you agree?” Turning on her heel, Selirah walked down the ramp towards the main base, stepping over the saber-marked bodies of several of the Republic soldiers she'd cut down on her initial attack after arriving. “We are due to meet with Acina. When we have a reprieve, we can talk then, if you would like.”

He wanted to argue the point, but the back she had turned to him was a blatant closure of the topic, and as they turned to head into the base, he saw Empress Acina in the middle of the main room, her hand outstretched. A choking Republic trooper hung suspended in the air in front of the Sith, throttled and dying, his feet kicking desperately. Selirah folded her arms, waiting impatiently, but she made no move to interfere. 

There was a very final snapping noise as the soldier's head turned to the side in tandem with a sharp motion of Acina's gloved hand, and then she dropped him indifferently to the floor, releasing him from her power's grip and turning to face Selirah. “It's been far too long since I've spilled Republic blood. I haven't had this much fun since our time on Dromund Kaas. And once again, we stand triumphant against our foes. We have secured our base, and sent the Republic troops whimpering back to their master.”

Selirah glanced around the room at the scant Republic corpses decorating the floor, and then back at Acina. Theron could almost feel the temperature in the room drop by several degrees as she frostily responded, “You killed a handful of grunts. I held off an -entire- army.”

Stung, Acina retorted, “I was overseeing our defense, but... I take your point.” Deactivating her saber, the Empress of the Sith Empire hung the hilt on her belt, her enthusiasm settling into a more businesslike mien. “If I know the Supreme Commander, he's already plotting the Republic's next move.” 

“What are we looking at, then?”

“The Republic has erected a formidable base. Their defenses are impressive, but they lack the supplies needed for a long campaign. If we lay siege to Malcom's base, we can suffocate the Republic offensive – and win the war.”

Theron shifted his weight uneasily, and Selirah turned to regard him. Her shoulders lowered visibly, and her demeanor was almost.. apologetic. It was very odd for her to permit herself to look this way in front of another powerful Sith; it was dangerous to give any vulnerability away, and he knew how much she hated to even show her fondness for him where potential enemies could exploit it. That was how he knew that he was -really- going to dislike what she was about to say, and she didn't disappoint him when she spoke. “Theron.. you know your father better than any of us. How do we break him?”

“Malcom and I aren't close, but he's not hard to read. He thinks like a soldier,” he told the two women flatly, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere between the two of them. A small, impotent feeling of anger lit inside him, but he felt a little guilty for indulging it at all. Selirah used the resources that she had to hand, and he was the best resource that she had here with regard to his father. He'd made the choice of whose side he was on when he'd rejoined Lana to search for Seli after the Eternal Empire had attacked Marr's flagship, and it was a little ridiculous to get upset about putting his money where his mouth was when it came to information about the Republic. But some part of him had never thought that it'd actually come down to this, where he was literally on the opposite side from his own people and his own father and mother. “Measures his life in ground lost and battles won. Every loss is an opportunity.”

Selirah and Acina went back and forth for a few more minutes, and finally landed on a solution involving a weapons factory that Imperial scouts had recently discovered. It was guarded heavily, but full of weaponry that would more than level the playing field. Acina suggested that they empty the factory and then use the boosted power to annihilate Malcom's base.

“Will Iokath's weaponry be enough to break your father's defenses?” Selirah asked Theron, her violet eyes gentler than the warlike conversation warranted. He wasn't sure if she was really capable of pity, exactly; she was fierce, and had fought for every inch of power she had gained, and she tolerated very little sympathy to exist in her view of the galaxy. But he had quickly learned that her harsh expectations were anything but that when it came to someone she cared about. Time and again, she had done everything that she could to support and understand him, and he knew that right now, the softness of her gaze was all the affection and apology for the situation that he was enduring that she dared show him in the presence of Empress Acina. He loved her for it, because he knew it was not in her nature to even bend that much for someone else.

“Malcom won't see it coming, which means it's the best shot we have,” he answered her immediately, keeping his emotions as tightly under wraps as he could. Not against anything that Seli might sense from him, but to avoid giving anything away to Acina.

“Coordinate with Lana, and get ready to attack the base,” Selirah said firmly to Acina. “Theron and I will leave in the morning to take the weapons factory.”

The trip back to the Alliance base was quiet. Theron was lost in his thoughts, and Selirah had left him to it for the most part, refusing to push him on anything. He knew that she had her own concerns to worry about, and that they were of a greater scale than his fractured relationship with his father. But still, he was grateful that she did not press him to talk, or say anything that would twist the knife of the ramifications of his decisions any further. He'd chosen, and he would not go back on it now. It had been the right choice. He knew that. But he still dreaded the next time they would encounter his father. He might not have had any connection to the force, but he understood very well that feeling of dread that Selirah had at times when she knew something was coming, but not exactly what, or when it would happen.

Halfway to the hallway that led to their room, Alyxia rounded a corner and nearly walked right into Theron. Her worn armor had new scoremarks, and her helmet was tucked under one arm. She smelled like smoke and the faint coppery tang of blood, and he arched a brow questioningly at her but the Mandalorian only shrugged one shoulder, gruffly stating that it was someone else's blood that was drying in a lurid splash of crimson across her chest and down one arm. Distracted, Theron hardly saw Selirah's head turn towards the mission coordination room where they had initially met with Lana on their arrival.

“Theron, I have something to take care of, but I'll be along shortly,” she said abruptly, and excused herself, disappearing down the hallway without giving him much opportunity to comment or even ask whether or not she wanted him to accompany her. When he turned back to Alyxia, the red-haired bounty hunter was looking at him, her cool emerald eyes expressionless. 

“That'll be that stuffy lapdog of Acina's,” she opined, and Theron made a face before he could catch himself. “He's been waiting around for her for hours. Don't like him?”

“No. He's competent, but I don't want him here. He's on Acina's payroll. Allies or not, he should be kept away from the sensitive details of missions and Selirah's whereabouts.” He folded his arms, leaning against the wall. 

“Heard he's planning to put in his resignation.” Alyxia's eyes followed his face, and saw the shock flare in the agent's hazel eyes, the tightness of his jaw that belied his insouciant, lazy body language. “If the boss takes him on, he'll be part of the team.” She waited a moment, then added, “Again. Anyway.. see you around.” She walked past Theron, leaving him to return to his room alone.

He wished he didn't feel that Alyxia had been deliberately needling him. He also wished that it hadn't been so successful.

**Strategy Room, Alliance Headquarters, Iokath:**

Quinn's back was to her when Selirah found him, and he remained there, though she knew he was aware of her approach. She came to him slowly, looking him over, her attention to detail avid, searching for any changes over the years, anything that would give away his whereabouts. But he stood perfectly correct, his parade rest form exact, with a touch of grey amid the black strands of his hair and a few more lightly drawn lines around his dark blue eyes as the only overt sign of the time that had passed while they were apart. “It's been a long time, Quinn.”

He turned to face her, his attention moving from the transparisteel windows that looked out upon the massive landscape of Iokath and the slowly drifting ships of her Eternal Fleet. His eyes met hers, and she felt a bone-deep sensation of relief that he was alive, and well. “Too long,” he told her sincerely, regret flavoring his words. “After you disappeared, I spent months on the hunt. Minister Lorman even heard about my crusade and ordered me to call off the search. He wanted the Emperor's Wrath to 'stay missing'.” His expression shifted, distaste evident in the slight twist of his lips. “Naturally, I refused... and found myself in Imperial prison. I was locked away for years – until Empress Acina pardoned me shortly before you retired the poor Minister.”

Selirah circled him slowly, and Quinn remained still, letting her look her fill, knowing she was prone to using such nervous energy to work through mental quandaries. “Yet, still you remained in hiding,” she said, and he flinched slightly at the accusatory tone in her voice, in particular because she was directly behind him when she decided to speak. He hesitated nervously, uncertain if he should admit to more, but then he felt her fingers touch the back of his neck, the unexpected touch brief, but shocking and strangely intimate as the tips of her fingers stroked over the neatly trimmed ends of his hair. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw her with her eyes half-closed, enjoying the sensation of the dark, silky strands against her skin. 

The touch withdrew after a few more seconds much to Quinn's regret, and he drew a quick breath to marshal his courage before confessing, “I actually tried to approach you once. When you visited Acina on Dromund Kaas. But I lost my nerve.” The words choked off into silence, and he squared his shoulders, forcing the next sentence out by main force of will, the words flavored by hope. “I worried that you'd fallen out of love with me entirely. That you would not welcome the sight of your discarded, foolish husband. And it would be completely understandable if that was the case, my lord. I know what I did to you was unforgivable.”

She said nothing for a long time, and Quinn refused to turn to face her, afraid that he would see rejection on her face, or that she was just waiting for him to meet her eyes before she dashed the thin remnants of his final hopes. It would be like her to want to see his face when she destroyed him. He knew that she was sometimes heartless in the extreme, and that she could be vicious in revenge. Her boots scuffed softly on the floor, and he knew she had grown tired of waiting for him to look at her. Her fingers, devoid of gauntlet, lifted to his chin and gently tilted his face up, and violet eyes met blue. Quinn wasn't sure what he saw there. Love, certainly. Grief. Regret. Worry. Desire. Uncertainty, possibly. Indecision, absolutely. 

“My lord, I never expected you to wait for me,” he interjected as the moment drew out even longer in silence, trying to make it simpler her for do what he knew she would have to do. Lana had been explicit in her warning, telling him that he should not interfere in Selirah's life. That there was much that he didn't understand about her.

“Quinn,” Selirah began, and then she shook her head briefly, one of her lekku trailing over her shoulder with the motion. “I don't want to make a decision like this right now, but nevertheless, I will ask you if you -want- me to decide right now.”

“You want more time to consider it?” he asked uncertainly.

She nodded, relief crossing her features and mirrored by the look of reprieve on his face. “Yes. If you will allow it, Quinn. But if you want me to decide right now, I will do it.” 

Selirah didn't need to elaborate on what the choice would be if she made it now. The option was quite clear to Quinn. Give her more time, and have the chance of another decision, however thin the chance was... or ask her to decide now and be told a flat no. It was no choice at all, to him. He had held onto his hope for this long. He wasn't quite ready to let it go. “Take what time you require, my lord. I have no desire to rush you, and I would enjoy having the opportunity to know you as you are now, after our years apart. I have drafted my resignation from the Sith Empire and Acina's service. If you will have me, it would be my honor to serve at your side once more.”

Selirah stood so closely to him right now that he could smell the sweetness of the delicately scented oil rubbed into her skin and almost feel the warmth of her body radiating, and he looked at her with hunger, his longing stamped all over his elegantly carved features. There was something in her eyes, a hot desire that echoed his and outstripped it, dangerous and yet still enticing. But she turned away without touching him, leaving him there in the room as she headed down the hall to rejoin Theron in their shared chamber. Only her voice came back to him, the words soft but audible. 

“Welcome to the Eternal Alliance, Quinn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still out of town for a little less than a week, but I'm a night owl so I've been writing while I'm all alone in the evenings. ;) 
> 
> Happy (upcoming) Fourth of July to my American compatriots, and Happy Canada Day to the Canadians!


	64. Razor's Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn discovers a little more information than he had anticipated, and Selirah and Theron raid the weapons factory and get some pretty bad news about the superweapon. At least, Theron thinks it's bad news. Selirah's jury is still out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spoilers for Iokath continue.**
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> And it's 3 am and I'm tired so forgive any mistakes.. I'll try to catch them in the morning. ;) 
> 
> Hope all of those celebrating had a safe and enjoyable holiday!

In the morning, Selirah rose early, disentangling herself from Theron's arms gently and dressing. She stopped to snag a fruit-filled pastry on her way to the medical bay, and was still chewing when she made her way into the room. A droid bustled over to her, and she stuffed the last piece of pastry into her mouth as she peeled off her tunic and armored chestpiece, stretching out on her uninjured side to be examined. Mouth full of pastry, she couldn't say anything at all when a pair of human hands touched her instead of the expected metal droid hands, but it was Quinn's voice that spoke up, making her relax back onto the bed.

“It looks good and is healing cleanly, my lord. I apologize for the presumption of taking over for the medical droid, but I saw you come in and thought I could be of assistance,” he said quietly, his hands moving with impersonal care, palpating the healing blaster burn. “Perhaps you will allow me to work as your medic again, if I cannot serve alongside you in battle?”

She finished her breakfast and lay still under his touch, letting him examine the wound. A hissed breath escaped between her teeth as he applied fresh kolto and anesthetic gel, injecting her with an antibiotic to ward off any secondary infections. “If you intend to obliquely ask if Theron is always with me when I am fighting.. no, he is not. But he and I work well together, and have a level of trust that I appreciate in my field work.” Despite the fact that her words were lacking in any kind of accusatory inflection, Selirah felt Quinn's hands still briefly at her comment about trust, and she could see a pained expression on his face from her vantage point. “Quinn...” she interjected quickly, before he could deflect. “I did not mean to imply that I could not trust you. But I hope that you understand that it would not be wise to act as if I favor you over those who have been with me throughout this entire clash with the Eternal Empire, and now here on Iokath, just because you have returned and have a past with me. It will take time for you to integrate with my people, and for them to learn to trust you. My personal trust will not be enough.”

“I understand, my lord. Please forgive my eagerness. I confess that perhaps I had a different sort of reunion in mind when I thought of seeing you face to face again,” Quinn admitted as he securely bandaged her side. Selirah rolled onto her back, her lekku wrapping idly around her neck at the change in position. She was all but naked from the waist up, with only a stretchy band of fabric wrapped around her breasts, and he glanced at her lean, muscular body in quick, darting looks. “My service with Acina, I was afraid, would feel like another betrayal. But I was certain that you would understand that it was the only possible path for me at that moment. I was free of jail, but far from being able to search for you again. Rumors aside, I had no concrete knowledge of where you were until Acina informed me of the alliance she had made with you and that you were on your way to Dromund Kaas.” 

Selirah sat up, slowly swiveling her torso left and right to check the bandage's security and her pain level before gathering her tunic into her lap. Quinn's eyes drank her in more openly, not bothering to maintain the fiction that he wasn't looking, but his gaze stopped on the new round scar through her midsection, and he moved behind her to see the matching scar on her back, and the swirling, starburst tattoos that surrounded both scars. “Lightsaber,” she explained, somewhat tersely and unhelpfully. “Our former Emperor's son made a very concerted effort to kill me during a confrontation at a shadow port, shortly after I escaped from the Spire.”

Quinn's expression clouded, and he hesitated before touching the round scar, noting the position and extent of the damaged skin. “My lord, this should have killed you. He spitted you.. how did you survive? Anyone else would have died.” 

“It's … a complicated tale, but the short version is that his father preserved my life, much as he did when the imperfect freezing process began to poison me in my carbonite prison. Not out of any kindness, of course, but because he needed me in one piece. But you can see that I am fine, Quinn. I did survive. The 'how' of it hardly matters at this point.” 

“I had heard that you recruited the former Emperor of Zakuul to your cause... was that true?” he asked slowly, his palm flattening against her back, feeling the contrast of her smooth, crimson skin and the rough scar tissue. “Even after this?”

Selirah smiled wistfully, and Quinn raised his eyes to her face, looking at her. “It's true. I'm not going to pretend that I didn't want to kill him. I absolutely did, and I tried very hard to achieve it, too. But Senya... you will meet her, and I think the two of you might actually get along quite well.. she pulled him out of my reach, protected him, healed him. She had earned the right to be heard when she petitioned me to spare him, and I decided to do so. He is immensely powerful in the force, and it would have been foolish to throw away the asset that he represented.”

“You did not bring him along with your other forces...?” 

“No, he remained on Odessen and is taking care of my interests while I am away.”

“My lord, if he was your enemy, and he did this to you, why would you choose to trust him with your Alliance? Aren't you concerned that he will try to take his former throne back while you are here?” Quinn asked reasonably, his dark blue eyes filled with a tempered curiosity.

Selirah gave him an unreadable glance, obliquely from beneath her eyelids. “I trust him because he has chosen to follow me, and to give me his allegiance. He knelt to me in full view of all Zakuul and acknowledged me as his leader. Arcann has served at my side loyally, and shed his blood for me, and he saved my life during an attack when I was buried in an explosion.” Quinn could see that she had more to say, but she closed her mouth abruptly and turned away. When she spoke again, he knew it was not what she had first intended to say, but something else entirely. He wondered fruitlessly what she had been planning to tell him initially. “We share an understanding, Arcann and I. There is no reason to worry about his intentions. He would no more turn on me than Theron would.” 

A surprised look touched Quinn's face, his brows arching slightly. Pairing Arcann with Theron, instead of say... Lana.. was telling to him. It certainly seemed that things -were- more complicated than anyone was willing to tell him, as of yet. He had no proof, and he suspected that if he asked her right now what her relationship was with the Zakuulan prince, she would lie to him. So he changed the subject, knowing there would be opportunities to discover the truth, if he was patient. “Your crew, my lord.. have you found any of them?”

“Yes, but Jaesa remains at large somewhere beyond my reach. Her choice, perhaps, or not. Major Pierce is usually on my personal detail, but I left him behind with Arcann... a decision he is likely still annoyed with me for making. Vette is on Odessen as well, assisting our logistics division. And now there will be you, as well. Although, I think you may find our accommodations somewhat less polished than you are accustomed to having in the Sith Empire, Quinn.”

“When you chose to keep your base of operations on Odessen, I assumed that would be the case, my lord. You know I would never complain about rough conditions. Not if I can be by your side again, in any capacity.” He helped her to draw her tunic on, then settled her heavier armor over the base layer, and she rose to her feet, lifting her arms slightly to allow him to fasten it for her. When he straightened, they were face to face, too close, and he caught his breath, afraid to move and ruin the moment or make her leave again. Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his, and he wondered briefly if she still had the ring he had given her, with the stone that he'd chosen to match her drowning deep violet eyes, the eyes that had effortlessly captured his attention from their very first meeting. He could still remember her cocky bravado, the occasional flashes of insecurity, her brutal power, and the bold way she had flirted with him and kept him off-balance for so long. 

The Selirah that stood before him now was a very different woman. Mature, strong, sure of herself. She had grown into the immense power that she'd had as an apprentice, and become so much more than even he had ever thought she could achieve. She'd formed an alliance made up of factions that had hated each other for time out of mind, and defeated the immortal Emperor, his power-mad daughter, and somehow tamed his powerful son to her hand. So much had changed about her, but somewhere in those beautiful amethyst eyes surrounded by the familiar black of her Sith tattoos, their gaze fixed upon his face, he saw the same connection to him that he'd seen in her before their first kiss. No matter what her life was like now, no matter who she loved, and no matter who she had grown to be in their time apart, Quinn believed that Selirah still had feelings for him somewhere inside her heart.

But it would take a delicate touch to bring those feelings back out again.

She was still looking at him, chin tilted slightly upwards towards his face, and there was a soft, bemused expression on her face as though she were lost in her own remembrances of him. Before he even thought about what he was doing, Quinn found himself bringing up a hand, touching her cheek, his fingers tracing the curving black tattoo line that followed her jaw. Selirah's gaze grew wary, but she didn't reject his caress. Emboldened, he ran his hand over the length of her tchun, watching her eyes glaze with pleasure. For a moment, he thought she was going to move closer to him, and his heart leaped painfully in his chest, fueled by the intense longing that he'd lived with for years. Then a strange expression crossed her face, a panicked, startled look, and she backed away, putting some space between them. Quinn could see her closing herself off, her violet eyes cooling visibly. “I have to go. The weapons factory.. we need it. Thank you for checking my injury, Quinn.” She turned, walking to the door, her black and gold armor starkly contrasting with her crimson skin and the length of her lekku trailing gracefully down her back. 

Quinn went to the door and watched her pass through the soldiers gathering for their morning assignments, seeing them part respectfully for their leader. She moved easily, without pain, and he felt a quiet pride that his care had been instrumental in sending her off in the best possible condition to fight. But then he saw her joining Theron, and the way she smiled at him, and looked at him. Had she pulled away because of her feelings for the too-handsome agent? Or was there something else that had stopped her? Because in that moment, he'd been certain that she was about to kiss him and that she was feeling the same surge of desire that he felt when he looked at her. Quinn watched her kiss Theron instead, leaning up on her toes, her gloved hands twining behind the nape of his neck, fingers sliding into his brown hair. When he couldn't bear the sight of them together any more, he turned away, wishing for just a moment that he could push her out of his heart and mind, and be free of her. 

Even though he knew that wasn't what he really wanted, at all.

**Iokath Weapon Factory:**

Selirah glanced at Theron as they entered the central chamber of the factory. He gave her a charmingly lazy smile, his hazel eyes meeting her glance affectionately, but she could see his exhaustion. He'd slept poorly last night, and she felt concerned even though he kept insisting that everything was fine. She slid in front of him by habit, making certain that there were no automated defenses to add to the cadre of droids that they'd had to cut through to get here, but nothing happened, and nothing shot at them. The room was large and lit with a greenish-yellow light, the floor octagonal, set with a grid and mesh that was fairly solid beneath her boots. She bounced briefly on her toes, feeling the material give just a little, and explored the devices set into the floor, a criss-cross shape ending in a small octagonal platform centered in the room. 

When she looked up, Theron was further inside the room, heading for a throne that looked similar to her own in Odessen. Crossing to join him, Selirah examined the creature's body that occupied the throne, its life long since extinguished. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Theron asked, looking at the dead creature with a sick fascination. 

“One of Iokath's original creators,” Selirah replied mildly, letting herself feel what she could in the room, sinking into the force to extend her senses. “Looks like it's been dead for centuries.”

“Let's hope it stays that way.”

Without thinking, Selirah spoke again, musingly. “Even all this time later, I can still feel the agony of its last moments. Something horrible happened here.”

Theron's glance at her was dry, but lacking in surprise. He had seen her like this before, and he knew she didn't understand how it sounded to him to hear her fascination with the death agonies of this poor unfortunate creature. “Thanks for the nightmare fodder.” He saw her eyes refocus slowly, moving to his face, and her lekku twitched uneasily against her back, the only sign of embarrassment that he knew she was likely to show him, even here where it was only the two of them. “All right, buddy. Let's see what you know about these weapons...” He moved past the Twi'lek warrior, leaving her to protect his back with the ease and trust built of long practice, and began to examine the throne and its surrounding mechanisms. “Jackpot.” He began running through the schematics and inventory lists, scrolling through them rapidly. “I'd say that's enough firepower to give Malcom a run for his money.”

“Download every last file. We need to know how to use these weapons – and how to build more of them.”

“Give me one minute..” 

Selirah passed behind him, her bootfalls coming in a soft, padding rhythmic half-circle pattern. He knew without looking that she was watching the one entrance to the room, though whether she sensed any danger, she chose not to relay to him. 

“That's odd... Some of these files have already been decrypted and translated into Basic,” he commented, flipping through the ones that had been altered curiously. 

“We might have Scorpio to thank... Lana said she replied to our message earlier, though her answer was somewhat cryptic.”

“If she's listening, I wouldn't mind the temperature getting bumped up a few degrees.” Theron made a show of glancing into the room, waiting for a change in the cold air, but when nothing happened, he shrugged pragmatically, shooting Selirah an amused look that made her respond with a fond, if slightly distracted smile. “No? Well, can't blame a guy for trying. Huh. This place used to be the superweapon's control room. Looks like our crispy friend here was the last one to use it, over a millennia ago.”

Selirah's violet gaze was thoughtful, but she only asked, “Can you control the superweapon from here?”

“Looks like I'm shut out. When it went on lockdown, it must have closed all outside access.” Theron's eyes flicked over the display on his datapad, and he frowned. “It looks like Iokath's creators were fighting a civil war. One side built the weapon, but something went wrong. The superweapon's more dangerous than we thought.” Glancing at Selirah, he saw her eyes move to the throne. Her expression was studiously bland, devoid of any visible emotion, but he could tell that she was thinking furiously. “It wiped out all life on this planet.”

“What kind of weapon wipes out an entire species and leaves the droids to tend house?” 

“Maybe a bioweapon? Sentient programming? I'm not sure. Only one thing's for certain. According to this data, it was tested on four different planets before Iokath. All successful. Over ten trillion lives, gone.” Selirah's expression didn't change at Theron's revelation, which was something he had privately feared would be the case. He could see her making decisions, and felt certain that one of them was whether or not she should discuss her thoughts on the weapon with him or not. “Seli... this isn't a weapon. It's the apocalypse.”

Her attention shifted from him to the doorway, and she leaned back on her heels, her deactivated lightsaber hilt resting in her hand, thumb brushing over it idly. The blade ignited with a hissing hum, and she turned away from the door again, but Theron knew she was anticipating some trouble. Perhaps it was about his meddling in the files, or just a failsafe that had activated at some point in their path here. “Theron.. if Acina hears about this, she may try to seize the weapon – and turn it against us.”

“My lips are sealed. There. I've downloaded arsenal blueprints, fusion matrices... everything our army needs to gear up with the latest and greatest Iokath weaponry. Now let's get out of here before..” He tucked his datapad away, turning around just as a massive war droid rolled into the room, into the center platform. He could hear the robot's weaponry charging up, and Selirah's expression flooded instantly with anticipation and battle-readiness. “... that happens.” 

He wasn't sure she'd even heard him. She launched into the droid, her attacks brutal. Drawing his blasters, Theron flung himself into the fight as the droid slung an arm into her, smashing into her injured side. She crumpled in on herself, sailing through the air and skidding across the floor. Theron spared her a glance, but he had to duck under the other arm as it came for him a moment later. It reached for him with both arms, but as he flung himself back, he saw Selirah land on the thing's back from behind. Her purple saber bit into its back, the blade driving through the body of the droid. It spun around in circles, trying to grab the Twi'lek and fling her off its back, but she gritted her teeth, dragging the blade downwards, cutting through it until it sagged to the ground in defeat. She stumbled to one knee as she slid down from the pitted, carved metal, and Theron could see the pain on her face for a moment until she caught her breath and straightened. Then she gave him one of her lopsided victory smiles, standing hipshot as if nothing was wrong. 

Lana's voice came over the comm, brisk and calm as always. “Empress. We've received your intel. I'm dispatching teams to secure the rest of the weaponry.”

“Meet us at Acina's base, Lana. It's about time we take the fight to the Republic,” Selirah replied, already moving towards the door. Theron followed, watching her carefully, but she walked with her usual easy grace, giving no concession to the pain he felt certain that she was feeling. 

“I'll see you there. And I have something to discuss once you arrive. Lana out.”


	65. We All Fall Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Selirah arrive at the Imperial base, and have a serious talk. Theron airs some fears and concerns. Selirah channels Arcann in order to be helpful. 
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> Lana tells them her concerns, and suspicions flare.
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> Acina brought a present. Selirah didn't. Awkward.
> 
> At the Republic's back door to the superweapon, Theron finds out that family is a lot more complicated than just blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers abound!**
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> Okay, like.. this went a lot longer than I'd intended, but when I finished the first part of the scene, and then thought "Oh I'll just do the conversation with Lana and Acina"... it felt too short, so I blithely went on with the next part and then realized it was long and...
> 
> Here we are. So. Yeah. That happened. 
> 
> Sometimes I have a plan when I'm writing, but a lot of the time, I'm just a cat chasing butterflies. ;)

Selirah's determined bravado was flagging somewhat by the time they reached Acina's Imperial base. She'd spent the last few minutes of the tram ride leaning against Theron's shoulder, and before they'd disembarked, had given in and quietly asked him to give her a direct shot of kolto and some pain medication. Though he'd wanted to check the wound directly, he'd left the subject alone, giving her what she'd requested and no more. 

“You needn't look at me like that, Theron,” she said to him as they exited the tram, stepping down into the open courtyard of the base. “I'll have Quinn look at it when we get back.” 

Theron knew his expression right now probably wasn't an improvement now over the expression he'd worn moments ago, and that was proven by the sidelong glance that Seli shot at him, and the amused smile that curved her lips. “Don't we have medical droids for that?” he finally said, slightly annoyed at the his inability to just let the mention of Quinn go by without remark. Something about the rigid officer's demeanor just needled him. Mostly the way he barely bothered to look at anyone but Selirah when she was around, like he was just waiting for her to stretch out her hand to him and take him back. 

And perhaps some of it was that he was afraid she would be tempted to do exactly that. In all the time they'd been together, he could count the number of times she'd spoken about Quinn on one hand, and he'd probably still have fingers left over. Theron remembered Lana's warning on the day he'd told Seli that he loved her: _“...I've never heard her speak about any of this herself, and she barely says his name at all. And to me, that seems like the actions of someone who is still in a lot of pain.”_ If she'd been over the man, he reasoned to himself, then it wouldn't still be such a sore subject. He wanted to ask her outright if she had feelings for Quinn; if she still loved him. But he knew she would likely brush it off, as she had every attempted conversation about the Imperial officer for years.

Selirah was looking at him, her arms folded across her chest. “Yes, we do, love,” she answered patiently. “Quinn is more than qualified, and is a talented medic. He also understands my requirements and preferences from his time in my service.” A faint smile touched her lips. “Theron, he will be bandaging me and treating my injuries. Is it vital to you that I have a droid treat me instead? If it is, then I will find another position for the Major.” 

He had to admit that her method of handling him was flawless, because now he felt a little bit foolish to have even brought up the subject at all. “It's not vital, Selirah,” he confessed with ill-grace. 

“Are you feeling jealous, Theron?” Theron blinked at her, but she wasn't smiling any more. Her eyes regarded him solemnly. “Have I done something that has made you unhappy? I wish you would tell me, if so.” She unfolded her arms, and he could see that she'd been using the position to support her aching side, because for a moment, he could see the pain in her face as she straightened carefully. Taking Theron's hand in hers, Selirah led him back into the idle tram car, guiding him to sit down before she settled beside him, her knees brushing his left knee. “There, now talk to me, because I can see that Quinn's presence is bothering you, but I want to know if that is the only issue on your mind.” 

“It's... not exactly fully about Major Quinn.“ Theron rubbed the bridge of his nose, briefly putting his face into his hands, trying to put together his thoughts in a coherent way. “Seli.. I'm not unhappy with you. I know that you weighed every side before you chose, and I know you can't make a decision as large as allying with the Sith Empire or the Republic just because I might prefer that you chose the Republic. I hate being on the opposite side from my father. It feels like I'm finally really making a choice.” Theron exhaled softly and lifted his face out of his hands, putting his chin on his fist, his hazel eyes fixing on her face. “The choice was made a long time ago in reality, Seli. When I knew I loved you, I knew I'd decided to stay with you and that on some level, it meant never going back to the Republic. But now it's becoming so real. And I'm facing my father as his opposition. I guess that's why I feel so resentful about Quinn, because I already feel like the bottom's dropping out of everything that I thought I knew. And I'm afraid that you still love him, maybe even more than me, or Arcann.”

Selirah listened patiently, her attention never leaving his face. When he stopped speaking, she leaned against the back of the bench carefully, finding a comfortable position. “So the ramifications of my decision to join the Sith Empire is causing you distress, because we are now arrayed against your father,” she said softly, more to herself than to Theron directly. He let her work it out for herself, knowing that even the dysfunctional relationship he had with his parents was more than she had ever experienced. “You are afraid it will put you in direct conflict with Malcom? Or that he will turn against you because you are with me?”

“I don't know.. I suppose both, to some degree or another. We never had much of a chance to know each other. I was an adult before we even knew we were father and son, and it was too late for me to form any kind of real bond with him by then. My mother's decisions had far reaching effects when she chose not to tell Jace that she was pregnant, or even tell him after I was born.” He folded his hands together in his lap, the knuckles whitening with the tightness of his grip. “She pretty much doomed all three of us to have no relationship to each other at all, and now here I am. Fighting alongside the Sith Empire and the woman who was pretty much a walking nightmare to anyone who served the Republic. Maybe it's just all coming full circle, hmm? It's not like my family hasn't had a complicated relationship with the light and dark sides of the force in the past.” 

Selirah watched him uncertainly, feeling her heart clutch painfully at the distress in Theron's face. She had started this conversation with good intentions, and now she was so very out of her depth. Arcann's absence pulled at her, and she wished desperately that she had brought him with them instead of leaving him behind on Odessen. His presence in the bond was distant, but she could feel him just the same, and she pulled that small comfort around herself, trying to think of what the prince would have said to Theron in this situation. “Your mother's decisions are not your fault, Theron. The distance between you and your father.. that is not your fault either. You needed him to be your father and I don't think he knows how to do that. Jace loves you, though. You know that. He may not be good at showing it, but he does.”

“How do you know?” Theron asked helplessly. “How do you know that he cares at all about me, especially right now, when I must basically seem like a traitor to him?”

“Because you are so strong, and principled, and easy to love, Theron. I don't think that your father could know you at all and not love you for the person that you are. You know that I don't understand family bonds very well... I don't even remember my family, and I admit that I likely wouldn't know them if I saw them tomorrow. But I understand what I feel for you, and how devastated I would be if I ever lost you. Jace may not approve of your decisions or your relationship with me. He may not understand why you stay by my side, and that's not something we can change. But you are his son, always. I think that someday he will realize how lucky he was to have been your father.” 

She realized as she said it that she meant it, all of it. That Theron was her family, and that losing him would be one of the worst things that could ever happen to her. It was easier to understand it when she thought of Arcann, because the understanding of the permanent raw emptiness that the bond would leave in her mind and heart was simple for her to comprehend, but Theron's hold on her was different. It was a deeper, more emotional link that she knew was as impossible to replace as the force bond between her and Arcann. A surge of anger at Jace and Satele's foolishness in letting Theron go through life feeling so alone and unloved washed over her, and she felt Arcann's brief touch as he reassured himself that she was well. “Even if your father never does realize it, Theron.. I know how lucky I am to have your love, and to be able to love you in return. I would be a very different person without you. I know you think I go through life like a rancor in a crystal shop and that everyone has to adjust to me or be tossed aside, but it's not entirely true. You have changed me, and I'm not sorry about the things you have affected in me. I don't want to cause you distress unnecessarily. I would hate to be the cause of that. If you will feel more secure if I am treated by the medical droids, then I'll do it. I'll reassign Quinn. I'll send him to Odessen. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Theron looked startled. To say that he had never expected her to say any of what she'd just said would have been a huge understatement. He'd expected her to tell him to inform Jace that he should take a long walk off a short taxi platform, or to simply not even care about his concerns about his father at all. She just so seldom seemed capable of grasping the struggle both he and Arcann faced with their respective families, and often didn't even seem like she wanted to attempt to understand family bonds and difficulties. 

But even though he still felt painfully conflicted about what was going to happen between him and his father, and where his decisions were going to take him; her words had helped. Mindful of her still-injured side, he pulled her close to him, halfway onto his lap, her wide violet eyes gazing into his from a few inches away. “I love you,” he told her, wishing his voice was a little less shaky when he'd said it. But she smiled brilliantly at him, and he knew she hadn't noticed, or didn't want to remark upon the fact that he was feeling overwhelmed. Her fingers brushed over the line of his jaw, stroking his skin, and she leaned in to kiss him, stopping a breath away.

“I love you too, Theron.” Then she kissed him, and he closed his eyes, letting the touch of her lips against his wash away all the pain he'd been feeling since they'd arrived in Iokath, and all the dread he felt when he closed his eyes to sleep and instead found only nightmares. Selirah loved him, and he loved her, and whatever else happened was going to happen whether he worried about it or not. They'd deal with it together. 

“You don't have to send Quinn away,” he told her when they finally re-emerged from the tram, keeping a professional distance in view of the Imperial soldiers, but both of them painfully aware of the other's nearness. “I know that it's not easy for you to be around him, just like it's not easy for me to see you with him. But you could use a dedicated medic of his skill. I can admit that am a little jealous. You loved him first, enough to marry him, and I know you probably still do care about him on some level. But I'll deal with that myself. My jealousy isn't your problem to fix, not when I know you love me. Now let's go talk to Lana. She's going to wonder what became of us.”

“It's a little astonishing that she didn't haul us both out of there a half an hour ago, but let's not push our luck any further. Theron?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for talking to me. I know Arcann is much better at these conversations, and at giving advice about dealing with family, but.. I'm glad you told me how you felt.” 

“He -is- pretty good at commiserating with me on our mutual bad parent experiences,” Theron confessed with a laugh. “I do wish that he was here with us, for both of our sakes. But I'm glad that we talked this out. I feel like a weight is lifted off my shoulders. Now we'd both better lose the smiles.. there's Lana.”

Lana swept up to them, herding both of them with bustling efficiency towards the main Imperial headquarters. Her voice, pitched low, sounded uneasy as she said, “Empress, we need to talk.”

“Time's short, Lana. What's on your mind?”

“I've been thinking: How did the Empire, the Republic, and the Eternal Alliance all find the superweapon within minutes of each other?”

“The timing's too perfect. It can't be a coincidence,” Selirah agreed with thoughtful consideration, her stride a little shorter than usual, her arm pressed down against her side. Theron watched her cautiously, but she seemed unconscious of the protective way she was holding herself. He wondered if she was hurt more badly than she was willing to let even him know.

“Exactly,” Lana replied unhappily. “We were acting on intel from an anonymous source. And it turns out, so was the Empire.”

“What's your point?” Theron asked.

“I cross-referenced both sets of data, and they're identical. I'm confident the Republic received the same intel. Whoever tipped us off wanted us to clash over the superweapon. They wanted to start a galactic war.”

“Then they should be happy, because they have certainly managed to achieve it,” Selirah replied, the three of them pausing inside the hall, away from prying ears and eyes outside, and Acina's presence further into the base. “Who benefits from starting a war? Could it be Malcom, or Acina?”

Lana spread her hands, frustrated. “We can't rule anyone out. The Shroud would normally be a suspect, but we've already cracked that mystery. Then there's Darth Jadus, or a rogue agent inside the Republic SIS...” 

Theron shot her a look, and added, “Let's not rule out Sith Intelligence.”

She sighed, but merely continued. “The point is, there are too many suspects to count.”

“Find me a name,” Selirah told her flatly, turning and heading deeper into the building, towards Acina's presence. She could feel the other powerful Sith easily while she was so near, and unerringly made her way through the halls that led to the chamber. 

“I'm on it.” Lana followed behind, casting a glance at Theron. He shrugged, but gestured at Selirah's side, letting Lana draw her own conclusions from the careful way that the warrior was moving. He could see the speculation in the adviser's eyes, but she said nothing, keeping her thoughts to herself as they came into the room and found Empress Acina examining an advanced new walker in the center of the room.

“Welcome back,” she greeted Selirah cheerfully, seemingly untroubled by the delay. “Meet the Crimson Talon. A joint Imperial-Alliance production, outfitted with Iokath weaponry and ready for you to pilot in battle.”

Selirah circled the walker, her violet eyes moving over the machinery curiously and with an obvious air of anticipation. She rarely liked to utilize any kind of mechanical aid in battle.. what could compare to her lightsaber and the force, after all? But she had more of an appreciation for the sheer devastation that she could unleash from the cockpit of a well-armed walker. “If I'd known we were exchanging gifts, I wouldn't have shown up empty-handed.”

“Bring me Malcom's head, and we'll call it even,” Acina replied with an amused smile. 

Selirah glanced at Theron, but he seemed distracted, announcing a moment later that there was a call coming in. Malcom's visual came on to the holo, his scarred visage reminding Selirah briefly of Arcann's, both of their permanent marks supplied courtesy of Sith. “Supreme Commander Malcom. Have you called to surrender?” she asked politely.

“Not quite. Consider this a friendly warning. My engineers have discovered a back door into the superweapon. Once they've gained access, we will turn the weapon against you – and win this war for the Republic.” 

Theron's face paled, and Lana's set into determined lines, but Selirah only replied coldly, “An attack against me is an attack against Theron. Would you really sacrifice your son?” Theron cast a glance at her, sharply, but her attention remained fixed on the holo, her jaw set challengingly. 

“I had a son, once,” Malcom answered flatly, and from the corner of her eye, Selirah saw Theron's expression fracture infinitesimally, and she felt her fury leap from low burn into a bonfire of hatred for his father. “He dedicated his life to defending the Republic.”

“I dedicated my life to the fight for -peace-. And when you bowed to the Eternal Empire, I decided to fight back. That's why I joined the Alliance,” Theron spat angrily, stung. His emotions spiked, for once easily detectable and likely clear to all the Sith present in the room, and Selirah held her silence, knowing that Malcom's response was not going to be the one that Theron was probably hoping his father would make.

“And your idealistic war nearly destroyed the Republic. Goodbye, Agent Shan.”

Theron slammed his fist into his hand as the holo link went abruptly dead, his anger and the hurt at his father's rejection nearly a palpable aura around him. “Dammit, Malcom!” 

Selirah glanced at Lana and caught the other woman's concerned gaze with her own, her uncertainty holding her back. She couldn't bring herself to try to comfort him; Acina's presence in the room made it inadvisable and nearly impossible to further show her regard for Theron in front of the other ruler, and she simply didn't have the right words or the actions that would comfort him at hand anyway, even if she hadn't been standing in front of another Sith who was only nominally her ally. And encouraging his anger, which would have been a response that -she- understood and appreciated, would not be welcomed by Theron, especially right now. It was always Arcann's particular viewpoint and understanding that helped in situations like this, and she felt his absence keenly as she looked at the furious light in Theron's hazel eyes. Unable to do anything to help him, she forced herself to simply push forward, to give him some direction for his frustration and anger. “If we move quickly, we can stop your father before he activates the superweapon.”

“You're right. Let's do this.” His voice was tight with pain, but Selirah let him be, the ache in her side feeling like a fair trade for her complete inability to help him.

“The walker is yours, Selirah. Lead our charge. Crush the Republic!” Acina called to her as Selirah climbed into the cockpit of the newly outfitted weapon with Theron. 

The silence was heavy in the walker, but Selirah made no attempt to break it, focusing on her task. The walker responded easily, the heavy weaponry ripping through the Republic defenses far more easily than she could have done alone, particularly while dealing with the amount of pain she was in. It was getting harder to act like she was fine, but Theron was too preoccupied with his father's betrayal to notice. He sat in mute anger, calibrating the guns more precisely while she cut down the enemy walkers, stomping the soldiers that swarmed the legs of the walker as she guided it through the barricades and gun emplacements. His fury fed her own, and by the time they had broken into the superweapon's facility, she was replete with passion and hatred, the pain that nagged at her now a distant concern. 

They went deeper into the facility, and found the control room, a huge chamber set with a throne on one wall just like the one they had discovered previously. Elara Dorne was frantically working on some nearby wiring, and the woman straightened, alarm widening her eyes as she caught sight of Selirah and Theron. 

“Where's Malcom?” Selirah called, her saber humming quietly in the room beneath the louder sound of the vast machinery, but Dorne had no time to respond. Instead, Jace Malcom stepped out from behind one of the columns, his blaster aimed at Selirah's chest.

“Right here,” he answered, his gun never wavering from her, though his dark eyes flickered towards his son. “Last chance. Surrender, or I activate the superweapon.”

“No deal.” Theron drew his main hand blaster, taking aim at his father. Selirah tore her gaze away from the weapon pointed at her, incredulously staring at Theron. The muzzle of his blaster wavered slightly, and she could see that his hand was shaking, but his expression was set and unforgiving. Dorne drew a blaster, aiming at Theron, but neither father nor son even looked at her, too absorbed in each other.

“Theron. You wouldn't!” Malcom's shocked voice almost pulled Selirah's attention away, but she turned her back almost entirely on Theron's father, facing his son instead, trusting that Malcom's surprise would be enough to keep her safe for now. 

Selirah took one step towards him. She heard Malcom's stance shift behind her, and knew he was reorienting the gun on her back; she could feel it, like an itch between her shoulderblades. But she kept her gaze on Theron, waiting till his eyes moved briefly towards her. “Don't kill him over me, Theron. We'll find another way to deal with this. I would never want to make you feel like this was your only choice. I wouldn't be able to live with myself.” Half-expecting to be hit with blaster bolts from two directions, she watched Theron's face, seeing indecision pass over his expression, then resolve as he shook his head slightly at her. 

“And I couldn't live if I lost you,” he told her firmly, the anger that had twisted his face dissipating for a moment, leaving only mingled regret and determination. Theron's hazel eyes returned to his father's face, and she knew in that moment what was going to happen. Touching the force, she half-turned as he looked at Malcom, keeping Elara in her sight and preparing to defend Theron and herself. 

“You've chosen this tyrant over me? Over the Republic?” Malcom's voice rose furiously, and Dorne's hand twitched, the gun barrel wavering between Theron and Selirah. She shifted on her feet, moving her weight onto her toes, and watched with satisfaction as the other woman made a decision and aimed at her, evidently deciding that the Sith was the more vital target. 

Theron's response was oddly calm, and empty of the anger that had fueled him all day. “Yes. I have.” He straightened, and his hand was unwavering as he took aim at his father. Blaster bolts ripped through the air, and Malcom dove for the throne, his bulky form moving with surprising speed. He flung himself to the side, and Selirah intercepted Elara's shots, ignoring the pain that ripped through her side when she overreached to deflect several bolts away from Theron, ducking under his blaster so he wouldn't hit her while he fired at Malcom. 

Jace leaped for the throne, his fingers hitting the activation sequence, and Selirah shouted, “Don't do it, Malcom!” as a blast of light and rumbling power shot through the room, the floor shaking and making her fall to one knee. The resulting agony made her bite back a vicious curse, struggling to block Arcann from feeling the worst of it. A visual holo representation sprang up in the room, the light dazzling and impossible to look at directly. Forcing back the pain, Selirah pushed herself up to her feet again, setting her jaw against the stabbing, persistent torment. 

Jace's eyes were fixed upon the slowly turning representation, a beam of light reaching out, framing his face. “I see a radiant city. Bathed in light, forged by the molten gods...” He sounded dazed, almost completely captivated.

“Malcom!” Theron could barely look at his father, the light brightening more by the moment.

“The superweapon is glorious,” Malcom said, his voice growing stronger. “And it belongs to the Republic!”

Selirah staggered as the room shook with power around them, the light painful to gaze upon. “He's snapped. I suppose it was only a matter of time.” 

“No, Empress.. it's you who are blind,” he replied with an eerie stillness, his body haloed by the near-white light emanating from the throne. The light began to envelop Dorne as well, and Selirah could feel the woman's panic as the room began to shake more violently, the power almost tangible and the buildup growing catastrophic in scope. “No! The gates are closing!”

Dorne reached for the wall, struggling to keep her balance, her eyes terrified. “Sir! Your connection to the throne is breaking down! Superweapon controls are failing!” Her gaze shifted to the Twi'lek, but Selirah's expression offered nothing of pity or any hope for aid, only seething hatred, and as Malcom spoke again, the woman finally broke down and fled the room.

“No, I can still see it. I know what I must do. They're coming...” Neither Theron nor Selirah could tell what his father was seeing, or what he was speaking about. But it was clear that he was experiencing some kind of hallucination, or vision, and his fingers moved, tapping the interface again. The swirling, brightening power consolidated into a whirling mass, and then the throne seemed to conduct all the gathering power, sparking violently and striking Malcom's body. He arched in agony, outlined briefly by light, and then tumbled free of the throne, burning and screaming. 

Theron shouted, “Father!” and ran to him, but Selirah followed more slowly, watching the fire flicker out as Malcom rolled onto his back, his face contorted in agony. 

She stood back from the pair, knowing that Theron would not welcome any interference, and that his father was no danger to him or to anyone else now. “It's too late, Theron! we can't...” When the first droid activated in the room, she turned to face them, feeling pain and exhaustion dragging at her limbs. Then a second came to life, and a third, and she drew a deep breath, sinking into the force. Distantly, she felt Arcann's presence in the bond strengthening, and knew he was reaching out to her, his power coming to bolster her flagging energy. She took it gratefully, her saber coming up in a guard position. She flung herself towards the first one, heedlessly trying to draw their fire and keep them from turning on Theron. 

Duck, spin, strike. Block, parry. Her body moved without thought, borrowed strength staving off the exhaustion. She cut down the first one without incident, the second and third accidentally helping her put it down with their blaster fire aimed at her. As she engaged the second one, new blaster bolts sailed over her shoulders, striking the droids. Theron, she reminded herself before she threw her saber at the second droid, her back unfortunately bared to the third, who slammed a fist into her lower back with incredible force as she caught her saber when it arced back to her hand, and drove it into the second one. She bit her lip to silence a cry of pain, her body colliding with the impaled droid's body. It staggered, but didn't fall, and the arms seized her automatically, lifting her and flinging her into the wall violently. 

She slowed her impact with the force, but still struck the wall and slid down it face-first, feeling the pain of fresh bruises rising. Rage flared, and she seized one of the droids with the force, slamming it into the badly damaged remaining droid as it went for Theron. He came towards her as she bashed the two metal bodies together in a fury, destroying them, crumpling the pieces into a wad, flinging them away into the walls of the room. When Theron reached for her, she waved him off, trying to catch her breath and letting him go to his father. Following slowly, she let herself feel the weight of every injury, and her exhaustion, her footsteps stumbling tiredly. 

Malcom was still alive, weakened, his powerful frame wracked with pain and defeat, his voice at first barely audible. “You were right, son. I'm so sorry.” Theron knelt by his father's side, his eyes taking in his stern, scarred face as he finished brokenly, “Tell your mother I'm sorry...” Jace Malcom fell back to the floor, his eyes closing, arms sprawled, and Theron's shoulders slumped in grief, his face crumpling. Selirah could feel his misery in waves, and she came to him, her steps slow. Stopping a few steps away, she hooked her saber to her belt, watching Theron; he seemed overwhelmed, unable to even process what had happened.

He sat in silence for a moment, then spoke, almost to himself more than anything else. “You always put the Republic first. I hated you for that. But now you're gone. And I couldn't save you... “ Getting to his feet, Theron turned to face her, and Selirah straightened, making sure that none of her own pain showed to him, not wanting to take from this moment. He came to her, and she wrapped her arms around his waist as he laid his cheek against her temple. 

“I'm sorry, love. I know that doesn't help, or fix how much it hurts, but... we'll get through this together.” Steeling herself for the inevitable stabbing agony and the bone-deep throb of her aching body, she lifted her hand and stroked her gloved fingers lightly through the back of his hair, holding him close to her, and Theron clung to her for several moments. When he drew away, it was clear that he was trying to pull himself together, and so she let him go. There was nothing to be said that was going to change the reality of the situation, and she knew he wanted to talk about anything but the horrifying fact of his father's body on the floor a short distance away. 

His datapad chirped at him, and Selirah saw the transparent look of relief on his face at the interruption as he drew it out of his jacket and examined the screen. Then his brows arched slightly in surprise. “Malcom's power flux knocked out the superweapon's defenses – and killed the signal that put our ships in lockdown. The Eternal Fleet's back online.”

Selirah nodded. “Good, that's.... “ The holo chimed, interrupting her, and she answered it, watching Lana's familiar face appear in front of them.

“Seli, I'm detecting massive power spikes at the superweapon facility!”

“Let me guess: that's bad,” Theron answered, his words heavy with sarcasm.

“More like catastrophic. The weapon core is charging – and no one is at the controls. If you don't deactivate it soon, it may obliterate the entire planet.” 

Selirah closed her eyes. Her body felt like a lead weight, one with a lot of nerves screaming in pain. She was so tired. “Don't worry, Lana,” she said, far more calmly than she actually felt. “We'll handle the superweapon.”

“You'll never reach it in time.”

Theron spoke up, still absorbed in the readout on his datapad. “Hold on. With the shields down, I can remotely slice into the mainframe from here. Maybe buy you enough time to manually kill the weapon at the source.”

“Do whatever it takes. In the meantime, tell our forces to take shelter. Acina's as well.” She'd wanted more excitement, she reminded herself as she deactivated the holo. No use complaining now that she had a lot more than she'd expected. “Theron... I love you.” 

He lowered the datapad, and the hollow look on his face receded for a moment as he looked at her. Pulling Seli close with careful hands, Theron tilted her chin upwards, looking down into her violet eyes before bending to kiss her. Her eyes closed, and she held him tightly, feeling for once the desperation of knowing that it could have been either of them who had died instead, and that they still could lose each other if something else went wrong. For the first time, the desire to stay with him overrode the desire to fight, to wage war, to test herself against enemies. Her heart pounded painfully, and she tried to imprint the memory of his body against hers, his lips against hers, the taste of him, the scent of his skin on her mind, to take him with her and remember this moment. When their lips parted, it was only far enough for him to tell her softly, “I love you, too. Now go on – save us all from a fiery death. We're counting on you.” He kissed her again, lingeringly, and then he was gone, moving away to access one of the terminals so he could do his part, and she stepped away from Theron too, resolutely straightening and making herself walk as if nothing was wrong. 

“Eternal Fleet, move into position and charge all forward batteries. It's time to knock out a superweapon,” she ordered, waiting until she was out of the door to let herself sag against the wall for a moment, catching her breath and hastily treating herself with what was left of her personal kolto supply. The blood she could feel soaking her tunic under her armor, the extensive bruising, the ribs that felt fractured; they would have to wait. 

There was still work to do.


	66. Tourniquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah meets another incredibly angry individual. It's unclear who is more naturally pissed off. We'll call it a draw.
> 
> Quinn and Theron have a little bit of a pissing contest. We're going to call that a draw, too.
> 
> Malcom's death starts to cause stress for Theron, and the traitor causes stress for everyone. Traitor 1, Alliance 0.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers, Ahoy!**
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> I actually have a few chapter ideas right now, so I churned this one out kind of fast. A lot of it is dialogue from the game, lightly embellished and given more context/life. However, after one short dialogue interlude that will be in the next chapter, from now on, it's back to all me till there's more added to the Iokath storyline. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3

Pushing through the constant throb of pain, Selirah took another stim, feeling the jolt of energy roiling through her body, driving her onwards. The facility was just ahead, and she halted her speeder at the entrance, moving inside on foot. Knowing that Theron was listening in on the comm, she spoke hastily as she found her way to the central chamber, a round room with a pedestal on which sat another throne. “Theron! I've reached the superweapon facility. How do I shut it down?” She eyed the throne, suspecting what the response would be even before she heard his voice over the channel.

“You'll need to interface with the main controls. Look for a throne, take a seat, then hope for the best,” he replied, a brief flicker of his usual humor in the final words, though he still sounded wrung out and empty to her hearing.

“I've seen two thrones on Iokath, and both were occupied by dead bodies. I don't want to be the third.” Despite her reticence, however, Selirah headed for the throne, hesitating only a moment before settling down into it. A small interface panel sat on the arm of the throne, and she held her fingers over it, eyeing it warily.

“My father cut corners, but you'll be sitting on the real deal. Let's hope that's good enough. Time's running out. Hurry!”

She tapped the keys, connecting with the throne. A surge of power went through it, and she closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. When she opened them again, she was.. somewhere else. A vast, outdoor room, round. A massive war droid stood before her, the rounded head set with orange-shaded 'eyes'. It was unmoving, still, and she spoke aloud before she could consider that perhaps it was better not to do so. “Where am I? Who.. or what.. are you?” The head turned, then tilted downwards, the droid taking in her form before speaking in a huge, booming shout.

“I AM RAGE. MOLTEN FURY. YOUR GOD AND YOUR DESTROYER.”

Selirah stared up at the machine, her gaze automatically assessing the droid for weak points, considering where she could do the most harm if it attacked her. It was not a fight that she was certain of winning. Not alone. “It's you, isn't it? You're the superweapon everyone is fighting over.”

The droid inclined its head in agreement, still unmoving other than the motion of its head and the basso profundo voice rolling through the space like thunder. “I AM ONE OF SIX. SHOW ME YOUR RAGE.” This statement was accompanied by a beam of light from the orange eyes, the beam moving over Selirah from head to toe before retracting. It almost looked like the robot approved, his head tilted slightly at whatever he'd learned from his scan. “YOU BURN WITH FURY. IMMOLATION. ANGER. A SACRIFICE SUPERIOR.”

Anger was certainly foremost in her mind right now, and Selirah sarcastically replied, “I didn't come here to be poked and prodded.” Arms folded across her chest, she eyed the droid, a swelling feeling of satisfaction filling her at the words he'd used to describe her, even though she knew they were not necessarily intended to be flattery.

“YOU HAD NO CHOICE. YOU WERE LURED HERE,” the droid told her in its metallic roar. “BLINDED BY DUTY. DISTRACTED BY TRUST. YOU DID NOT SEE THE BLADE TO YOUR NECK. THE RAGE IN YOUR SHADOW. THE TRAITOR. YOU ARE BETRAYED.”

Sneeringly, Selirah tossed her head, her lekku twisting together and slowly unfurling down her back with the gesture. “I am the ruler of the Eternal Alliance. Of the -galaxy-. Who would dare turn against me?” she argued, infuriated by the droid's slow, grinding conversation, wanting answers that she knew were not going to be given. 

“ONE MARKED BY ANGER. PAIN. HOPE ERODING. THE BETRAYER LURED YOU TO IOKATH. IGNITED WAR. SPARKED THE ENGINES OF RAGE, ENVY, PASSION, HATE, SORROW. THE BETRAYER NOW OFFERS YOU: SACRIFICE PRIME. FUEL FOR THE SIX GODS!”

“I'm not an offering, prime or otherwise,” Selirah told the droid contemptuously, unaware that outside of this place, in the superweapon facility, a robed figure was tampering with the mechanism that fueled the throne, placing a device on one of the panels, and setting it to overload. “I am your destroyer.”

“RAGE!” The gigantic droid moved, preparing to attack her, one massive arm lifting as a shock jolted through Selirah's physical body outside whatever place this was. Her body arched in agony, the power searing through nerve endings already made tender by her previous wounds and bruises, and fractured bones. She screamed, and felt Arcann's shock and pain in her mind, his fear that she was dying. She had no strength to spare for protecting him from her body's torment as the droid roared, “NOW YOU FALL – AND THE GODS RISE.”

Gathering her failing strength, she forced the order from lips that she realized she had bitten in her pain, tasting blood on her tongue. “Ships of the Eternal Fleet! Open fire!” The bolts of weapon fire from the orbiting ships struck the huge droid, driving it violently to its knees as Selirah staggered back from it, a new jolt of molten torment shooting through her as the throne sparked around her body, nearly electrocuting her as circuits fried and smoked, fire breaking out on the numerous panels around the room. Selirah heard the droid bellow in an echo of her own pain, threatening to rise again, but she was pulled from the room and back into her own body, her consciousness flaring briefly into alertness. She thought she saw something, a shadowy figure fleeing into the hall, but she wasn't sure how much of that was pain and how much of it was the smoke and fires obscuring her vision as she flung herself from the damaged and burning throne and rolled away from it before the darkness of unconsciousness reached out to take her. 

**Eternal Alliance Med Bay:**

Quinn's hands moved with careful precision, closing the last of the wounds that he had found in his examination of Selirah's body. When they'd brought her in, he'd been certain she was dead, her arms, lekku, and legs limp and dangling, skin smelling of smoke and the acrid-tang of electrical fire. The abrasions and smaller cuts were easily treated, and the extensive bruising had been gently handled as well, particularly the painful swelling of the bruises that networked across her face beneath the black lines of her tattoos. A tight, elastic bandage had been used to bind the cracked ribs against further injury; it would hurt her, when she awoke, but they would be supported and held in place while they healed. 

The worst of it had been the repeatedly reopened blaster burn on her side, torn and seeping blood, where he could feel heat even beyond normal Twi'lek body temperatures around the wound and smell the faint, sweetish odor of burgeoning infection starting to set in as well. Quinn had spent the most time there, and had set a course of antibiotics to treat the underlying infection while he cleaned it, debrided the dead tissue so it could heal, and applied kolto gel as well as several shots around the injury. 

Selirah had gone under the anesthetic easily enough, but he'd had to renew the dose once when she'd nearly woken up while he was still working on her. She'd stiffened under his hands like she'd been struck by something heavy, and a strangled scream ending in a sob had broken from her lips, along with a word that he found unfamiliar, spoken in a different language than her usual Imperial accented Basic. Quinn had been making sure she was back safely under sedation again when he heard a familiar man's voice tell him, “It's her native language.” Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Theron in the doorway of the medical bay, one shoulder propped against the door jamb. Jaw tightening at the stab of loss and inevitable jealousy that always came to him when he saw the former Republic agent, Quinn merely nodded his head in acknowledgment, going back to his work as Selirah subsided into stillness again on the clinic bed. “Will she be alright?” Theron asked.

“I have stabilized her, and while there is still cause for concern about the blaster injury until I am certain that the infection is gone, for the moment.. yes. I believe that my lord will recover fully,” Quinn replied, knowing that his voice sounded as brittle as he felt. 

“She is much more than a mere Sith Lord, now,” Theron remarked, moving into the room. He circled around Quinn, casting a curious glance over the tools and equipment on the tray near the Imperial officer. “Though she may not mind being reminded of her past. By _you_. It's hard to tell.” 

Quinn lifted his eyes to the other man's face, and Theron saw a burning fury in the deep blue eyes that belied the rigidly controlled, emotionless facade he presented to the world. There was no obvious temper or anger visible in his face, but in those eyes; a towering passion hid there inside Quinn, and for a moment, Theron could understand how such an otherwise controlled man could have proven so entrancing to Selirah, once upon a time. “You are correct, Agent Shan,” Quinn said crisply, his lashes dropping over his gaze as it lowered to Selirah's side again, veiling his anger. “It is a habit of long-standing. It will require some time to reacquaint myself with the honorifics that she prefers now. Thank you for reminding me.”

Caught off-guard by Quinn's agreement, Theron busied himself with finding a chair and settling into it, his legs stretched out in front of himself comfortably, making it obvious that he intended to stay. He could see the medic take a small, exasperated breath, but he remained silent, letting Theron break the silence as it stretched into several minutes while he worked with patient, efficient skill. “Empress is usually plenty for her. She doesn't even really care if most of us refer to her that way. You know how she is... well, how she was.”

A dark brow arched in amusement, and Quinn answered, “I understand her, yes. She has never been one to stand on ceremony. You said that word earlier was in Rylothean?”

“Yeah. She must have been dreaming.”

“Quite horrific dreams, from the way it looked. I think she was reliving the experience in the superweapon facility, perhaps. The damage was.. significant, but not as deep as it could have been. The Empress is quite strong. What did the word mean?” Quinn's question was offered nonchalantly, as if he were merely making conversation, but Theron wasn't fooled. He knew that the man was digging, trying to find out what, or whom, she'd been thinking about when she'd spoken in so unguarded a manner.

“It's a nickname,” Theron temporized unhelpfully, taking his datapad out and flicking through the reports and intelligence information being routed to him from Odessen and starting an encrypted message to Arcann. “You don't know any Rylothean from your time with her and Vette?”

“Vette preferred to keep her annoying chatter in Basic, so I could not simply ignore it. Selirah rarely spoke Rylothean during my time with her. Nearly not at all, actually.” Stung by Theron's repeated, unsubtle jabs, Quinn added, “I do know, however, that Selirah is not the name she was born with. Though I'm certain you are aware of that as well, Agent Shan.”

Theron's unguarded expression was all Quinn could have hoped for, annoyed and more than a little irritated at the revelation. “Sith all change their names anyway, don't they?”

“Not all, but it's common enough when they become Lords, and even more so at the ascension to Darth. I would never presume to tell her private information, however. Not even to someone who is presumably somewhat in her confidence, as you are, Agent Shan.” He could not -entirely- contain the faint smugness that leaked out in his words, and he had no real interest in attempting to do so. Even with the news of Theron's father's death moving like wildfire through the ranks at the base, Quinn had no interest in allowing the agent to simply needle him without any kind of response.

“I assume it's related to her general refusal to speak Rylothean. Other than a few words here and there, she seems to distance herself somewhat from Twi'lek culture, which was obviously necessary in your bigoted, xenophobic Empire,” Theron observed, his hazel eyes lifting from the note he was composing to update Arcann in order to look at Quinn's downcast face, his hands busy bandaging Selirah's side with careful attention. “She had to protect herself from seeming too alien beyond what she could not hide of her appearance. So.. no Rylothean, and embracing traditional Sith tattooing.” 

“Obviously I do not feel like there is anything amiss or lesser about her, either.” Quinn's stiff observation was accompanied by him drawing a light blanket over her form and moving away from her side. He took up the armor she'd been wearing and sat down next to her bed on the opposite side from Theron, busying himself with cleaning the blood from the interior panels. “She is exceptional in every way, and always was, even when I first met her. I admit, I was surprised when I saw her that first day, but...” For a moment, Theron saw Quinn's expression lose his perfect control, and a wistful, regretful look crossed the aristocratic features, softening the cool blue eyes and easing the tight line of his jaw beneath his pale skin. “She looked at me with those amethyst eyes, and I didn't see an alien standing there in front of me. It was impossible to think less of her, when she swept into a room and immediately took up every inch of space in it with her self-assurance. She was...” Quinn shook his head slightly, catching himself, and glanced at Theron, his face shuttering, locking his feelings away again. “.. very hard to resist.”

Theron felt a twinge of reluctant pity for the man. He still didn't -like- him.. Quinn made that pretty difficult, as a rule. But he knew what it was like to have that absorbing presence of hers turn from you to shine on someone else, and remembered how it'd felt like his heart was literally breaking when she'd first told him that she had feelings for Arcann, before he'd understood what it had entailed. And he understood that it must have been crushing for Quinn to know that he'd won her heart, married her, had her love... and then had driven her away with his betrayal, which had freed Selirah to eventually fall in love with Theron. To come here now and lay bare his hopes, only to realize that she had moved beyond his long-held dreams of reconciliation must have been incredibly painful for the man. Theron knew that if it had been him, he could never have just watched her walk away from him without a fight, and something told him that Quinn was not the kind of man to do that either. “Yes.. she is,” he agreed quietly. “Major Quinn? Thank you for taking such excellent care of her. She spoke quite highly of your skill as a medic, and I see that she didn't exaggerate at all.”

Quinn looked at Theron, uncertainty in his eyes, and then a small, but genuine smile appeared. “Of course. I am grateful in the extreme that she has allowed me to rejoin her service, in this capacity. I did not expect her to be willing to take me on at all, if I may be completely honest. It was very gratifying when she extended the offer to serve as her medic.” Quinn glanced at the armor in his hands, and rose to his feet, setting it back with her gear now that it was clean. “She will wake soon. If you will excuse me, I will leave you here to greet her when she awakens, and fetch Lana Beniko as well.” As he headed out of the medical bay, he turned back to look at Theron. “I am sorry for your loss, Agent Shan. My sincere condolences.”

“Thank you, Major Quinn. I appreciate it.” Theron's heart clenched at the reminder of the day's events. He'd been trying to push his father's death aside, to not think of it, but he knew that was no solution. It was so painful to think of Malcom's face in those final moments, the regret and sadness that had been written on his weathered, battle-scarred face when he'd looked at his son. It's likely that if anyone here would understand the difficult loyalties and choices of a career soldier and officer, it'd be Quinn.

Moving closer to Selirah's bedside, Theron sent the note to Arcann, hoping that the update would help assuage the prince's worries. He knew that he must have felt what happened to Selirah, even if it was somewhat distantly, and with so much responsibility for her empire on his own plate, the prince could not come here easily even in dire circumstances such as Seli's injury and this news of a traitor. All Theron could do was tell him that she was alright, mending, and that they had everything under control here. With any luck, it would be enough. 

He stroked the back of her hand with his fingertips, tracing the lines of her tattoos slowly. Her hand twitched, reaching for her side where normally her saber hung from her belt, and then it curled into a fist, tightening until the crimson skin whitened from the pressure. Theron could see the tension in her body, her eyes moving uneasily under her closed lids, and he knew she dreamed. She seemed to have her sleep fractured by nightmares as often as their pleasant alternatives, and he knew that in many ways, her entire upbringing could be seen as one long bad dream to someone like him. His relationship with his parents was.. well.. it was bad. But he'd known who his mother was, and why she'd made the choice she had, for a good portion of his life. And though he had never managed to develop much of a real father-son bond with Malcom, and so much of their last time together had been riven with mistrust and anger, he'd known who his father was, and what he stood for in his life serving the Republic. Selirah had never had any of that, and never would. Of course.. she didn't seem to miss it either, and perhaps she was in the right where that was concerned. His life would have been a lot simpler, perhaps, had he never known his parents at all.

She spoke, the words barely audible, and Theron bent forward over her bed, his head tilted to listen. It sounded like a list, a recitation of something. Names? He saw her flinch, then her body relaxed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lana enter the room slowly, her yellow eyes seeking out Selirah's prone form, worry written clearly across the adviser's face. When he turned back to Seli, he saw her eyes open, the pupils wide and dark before they slowly narrowed, focusing on his face. “Theron,” she said slowly, relief in the word. “Are you alright?”

Theron laughed, shaking his head at her, settling back into his chair and letting his hand slip lightly into hers, stroking her slender fingers with his. “Seli, you've been unconscious for hours. I should be asking you if you're going to be alright.” She started to sit up, opening her mouth to protest the idea, but her head spun nauseatingly and Theron guided her back down to the bed. “Wait, let your body adjust. You still have an infection that you're fighting, and a lot of pain meds in your system,” he told her gently.

Her violet eyes shifted towards Lana, and she managed a small smile for the other woman. “Lana.” 

“Don't worry. You're safe,” Lana told her firmly, and the last of the tension drained out of the Twi'lek's shoulders at the assurance. If Lana said it, then it was so, and Selirah relaxed, feeling the dull ache of her ribs, and the tight bandages wrapped around them, as well as the carefully treated blaster burn. Quinn had been here, and he'd taken care of her, she knew. But he was gone, and she wondered what had passed between him and Theron while she'd been asleep.

“I found the superweapon. It was a giant droid...”

“We know.. you've been talking in your sleep,” Lana replied, and despite her earlier promise, Selirah knew there was more that she was holding back, waiting until she was certain that her Commander was ready to hear it.

Theron's hand twined with hers, and he looked at her, his eyes filled with the grief that she knew he hadn't had a chance to really accept yet. “Your dreams are almost as bad as mine,” he noted softly, mostly just for her hearing, before his voice went back to a normal volume to continue. “Whatever that droid is, you knocked it out of commission with the Eternal Fleet. Now it's recharging – and gearing up for a counterattack.”

“Which is why we must strike soon. Hesitate too long, and the titan may destroy us all,” Lana observed.

“Yes, him and his other friends. The Six 'Gods'.” Selirah replied acerbically, finally sitting up without issue. She held out a hand for her tunic, and between the two of them, Lana and Theron helped her dress and strap her armor into place. “Someone betrayed me. They lured me into that death trap and sabotaged the throne – just like they tricked all of us into fighting a war on Iokath in the first place.”

“The conspiracy cuts deeper than we imagined,” agreed Lana, handing Selirah the hilt of her lightsaber.

“Sounds like an inside job, all right. Only a handful of people could get close enough to sabotage the throne.”

“Who could have done such a thing?”

Selirah shrugged. “Acina's an expert strategist. If she took me down, the galaxy would be as good as hers.” Despite her words, she didn't look angry, or threatened, or even as if she really believed Acina was at fault. 

“I always thought she had a case of throne envy.” Theron's smile was a little more determined than actually amused, and Selirah moved closer to him, one hand resting lightly on his back as Lana spoke.

“Why stop with Acina? If we're tallying suspects, we have to consider Aygo, Vizla, Satele, and the entire Alliance army.”

“Not to mention Lana. And hell, even me.”

Selirah gave Theron an exasperated look, but he merely shrugged in response. “Whoever it is,” she said firmly, “I want them rooted out. Quickly.”

Lana nodded thoughtfully, folding her arms, her fingers tapping lightly. “There's only one solution. You must monitor everyone.”

Theron gave her a startled look, frowning in disapproval. “Hold on, Minister of Paranoia. You can't invade everyone's privacy to sniff out a single rat!”

“I can't,” Lana agreed, her calm golden gaze coming to rest on Selirah. “But the Empress can. Give the order, and I'll begin surveillance of everyone. Even Theron and myself. It's the only way to flush out the traitor.”

Closing her eyes briefly, Selirah ran over the possible outcomes of such an order in her head. Then she slowly shook her head, refusing silently before reiterating it aloud. “I won't let one traitor turn me against my followers. They have fought, bled, and died for me and for our alliance in this war. They have earned my trust time and time again. All of you have. If someone has turned, then we will find them, but we're not going to violate everyone in order to do it, Lana. We can't do that. -I- won't do that.” When she opened her eyes, she saw frustrated acceptance on Lana's face, and relief on Theron's. And for just a moment, she found herself wondering if he was relieved because she hadn't made a catastrophic mistake, or because he hadn't wanted her to spy on him and everyone else. Her thoughts flickered to Quinn, and his patchwork dignity, and the way he waited at the fringes of her attention, hoping for her to speak to him. 

That was the end result of a lack of trust. A decimated relationship, years in the making and only seconds in the breaking. Love, slowly transformed into ugly resentment and rage. An empty bed, and two broken hearts. No, Selirah thought sadly, I am not going to let myself turn into Baras, suspecting everyone and betraying the faithful who serve me, all due to a misplaced sense of fear and mistrust. We will find them another way.

“I'm glad -someone- hasn't lost their mind,” Theron said flatly.

Lana shrugged fluidly, a brief, oddly mundane gesture that she rarely made. “Trust is a risk. Now more than ever.” The three of them exited the medical bay, making their way down into the main planning center, where Empress Acina was waiting with obvious impatience. She came to meet them, her voice pitched with anticipation. 

“Excellent! You're awake. And looking stronger than ever, I see. Are you ready to return to the battlefield?”

Seli gave her an incredulous look. “Their Supreme Commander is dead. Is the Republic still refusing to surrender?”

“They always were a stubborn lot,” Acina replied cheerfully. “Without Malcom, the Republic forces are in total chaos. They're more desperate than ever for control of Iokath.”

“They're still hoping to lay claim to the superweapon. If we take it first, they'll have no choice but to surrender.”

“We'll take it, but we can't stop there. We must rain destruction on the Republic. Day and night, until we soak Iokath with their blood. Only then will we emerge triumphant,” Acina stated, her fist smacking into her open palm as a pointed illustration. “Good luck on the battlefield, Empress. Victory will be ours.”

As the Sith Empress left the room, Selirah let herself sigh tiredly. “Sounds like it will mostly be -my- victory, and she'll just enjoy the fruits of my work.” Lana chuckled in agreement, her blonde head bent over a display screen, checking the readouts for the worst concentrations of Republic troops. “I suppose we should get started, then. With the Fleet free and responsive, we have their aid as well. And no, Lana,” she added, catching the sidelong look that the adviser gave her, “I do not intend to use it to blow up Acina. Not even to singe her. Yet. I'm fully aware that you're dying to give me some speech about defeating the Republic, and not fighting a war on two fronts, and more tedious logistics nonsense, so let's just consider it said and agreed to for now.”

Bent over the screen with Lana, Selirah could see Theron drift away to stare out the windows, watching the ships of the Fleet idly sailing past. “Give him time, Seli,” Lana said quietly, catching the direction of her gaze. “I don't think it's even sunk in yet for him that Malcom is really gone.” Seli nodded in agreement, lowering her eyes to the screen again. But Theron never came to join their planning discussions, and when she left the base, it was with Yariele by her side instead of him.

By that point in the day, she wasn't even sure where Theron had gone. But when she returned hours later, ready to fall into bed and sleep forever, he was already there, soundly asleep with his back to the room. 

Neither of them slept well that night.


	67. The Story of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Quinn spend some time together decimating Iokath's droid wildlife. Quinn gets a reminder that Sith jokes are mostly only funny to Sith. 
> 
> Memories stir up some feelings in both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers!**
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> 
> There is one more in game scene for me to cover, but I'm not sure when I'll do it. It'll get put into a chapter soon. After that, there will still be mention of Iokath events in future chapters.

The door chime rang once, and then again after a few moments before falling into silence.

A crimson hand snaked out of the covers, the fingers searching idly over the other side of the bed, but there was no one there, and from the coolness of the sheets, Theron had been absent for a while. Selirah pulled the covers over her face, limbs sprawled comfortably as she tried to go back to sleep. 

The door rang again, insistently.

“Just come in!” she called, certain that anyone that determined and that unafraid of opening her door in the morning had to be Lana. The door hissed open, and she waited, listening to the footfalls come inside the room, then hesitate for a little too long. Perhaps it wasn't Lana after all, she realized as a familiar voice spoke.

“I apologize, my lord. But you did tell me to enter,” Quinn said cautiously. His gaze rested on the body under the covers, only her right arm visible, stretched out across the bed with her palm resting on the empty side of the bed. “Yariele is otherwise occupied today and so I offered my own services to accompany you to the Imperial base and into the Iokath expanse.” He hesitated when she still didn't move or respond, uncertain if she was actually even awake, or if she'd just told him to come in and gone back to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time it'd happened, if he was honest with himself. “Lana agreed to it. Theron is currently with her, assisting her with some work that was, I believe, above my clearance level.”

The covers shifted, and a flash of leg appeared amid the sheets, both thigh and calf visible, then one slender foot. “Right. I'm on it,” came from the covers, sounding sleepy. Quinn made an extremely heroic attempt to not watch as she slowly emerged from the bedcovers, averting his eyes pointedly as one bare leg was joined by the other, and another bare arm, but as it turned out, there was not much else to see. Enveloped in a large, well-worn white shirt, Selirah swung her legs out of bed, sitting there with her eyes closed. Quinn knew she'd sit there for an hour, or just go back to sleep if he let her, but he'd come prepared for such an eventuality.

“Your hand, my lord?” 

Selirah put out her hand without opening her eyes, and Quinn set a hot cup of delicately spiced caf in it, waiting until she had managed to close her fingers around it before he let go. She took a sip, and sighed appreciatively. One eye cracked open, a sliver of violet appearing in the black tattooing that encircled both eyes. “Thank you, Quinn.”

“Of course, my lord. Some things at least do not change, like your regard for mornings,” he noted dryly, and she laughed, still a little sleepy-eyed, finishing her cup of caf before setting it aside and rising. The shirt came down to the tops of her thighs, but Quinn still watched her going over her armor and checking for damage, unable to make himself look away. He'd done everything possible to try to discreetly get some more information about her, either from Lana or one of the higher placed soldiers in the base, but everyone was as close-lipped as if they'd been told specifically not to let anything slip to him. There was something that no one was telling him, and Quinn knew it had to be significant. But unless he got it from Selirah herself, or managed to catch Theron in a talkative mood, it was becoming abundantly clear that he'd have to find out some other way. Was there someone back on Odessen than she cared for? Was it the Zakuulan prince? Or Pierce? Or someone else? 

Selirah had gotten herself halfway dressed while he'd been thinking, Quinn noted, and he hastily stepped in, stopping her so that he could check the dressing on her side before the rest of the heavy armor prevented it. The wound looked good, he was pleased to note. The skin was healing cleanly, and the signs of infection had subsided. With luck, it wouldn't even scar much, if at all, though he knew she didn't find such things troublesome. His eyes flickered to the saber scar through her body, remembering the first time he'd seen it and realized she could have, and likely should have, died from it. Arcann had done it to her; that much he'd been able to get the story about in full, from some mechanic working on one of the shuttles. 

The whole tale had been punctuated by frequent observations about the skytroopers raining devastation on Asylum, and Vaylin's depredations near Selirah's war ship, called the Gravestone. But the tale of her combat with Arcann had filtered down intact from her inner circle, and Koth Vortena, the captain of the Gravestone. He'd been the one to interrupt the battle and see Arcann seize Selirah in the grip of his power, yanking her across the distance and impaling her on his lightsaber. Koth had heard her agonized scream, seen the saber burning through her body, and been sure she would be dead before he even got to her. He'd brought down the machinery that had knocked Arcann off the platform, an impossible fall that should have killed the former Emperor, just as Selirah's grievous injury should have meant her own death by all rights, had Vitiate.. Valkorian.. not intervened to save her with his power. Koth had dragged her, stumbling and wracked with pain, all the way back to the Gravestone, where she'd collapsed. 

And despite all of this, she had chosen to accept the prince into her Alliance, and more, was reportedly quite close to him. He was part of her inner circle, her trusted advisers. He was instrumental in combat training, troop deployment, had input into strategy sessions, and now he was actually running the Alliance while she was here on Iokath. It was hard to believe that she'd chosen to allow him such latitude and trust if there -wasn't- something going on between them. But would Theron have been willing to see her turning to someone else under his nose and do nothing about it? Maybe it wasn't Arcann. Perhaps he was a smoke shield, someone too powerful to be an easy target, used to deflect people from realizing that it was someone more vulnerable...

Quinn looked up suddenly, and found Selirah's knowing gaze on him. Her large lavender eyes were wide; awake and alert, and curious. There was no doubt that she was wondering why he'd been so lost in thought. “My apologies, my lord,” he said again, nervously. “I was woolgathering. If you are ready to go?” 

She gave him one of her quick, amused smiles, a flash of white teeth and a little bounce on her toes. “Getting introspective, are you?” she asked, taking up the shirt she'd been sleeping in and laying it on her pillow. “Don't worry, Quinn. I won't ask you what you were thinking about.”

He couldn't hide the relief that he felt, so he didn't even bother to try. It only seemed to amuse her more, and she laughed, sliding past him, a faint, sweet scent of some exotic flower drifting to his nose from her skin. Quinn closed his eyes for a moment, feeling intoxicated at the familiar scent of kibo flower oil and quite certain that if this was all some sort of test of his willpower, he was failing utterly. Then he followed Selirah out of her room and down the hall. 

She was in good spirits when they reached the Imperial base, mingling with the rank and file soldiers as if she was merely one of them. Quinn watched them talk and joke with her, stilted at first, but with increasing warmth and companionship, and he was astonished at her ease with them and how charming she was. It wasn't that she'd ever lacked in charm, but Selirah had been far too aware of her position in those early years to befriend soldiers who had no prayer of being useful to her in her climb to power. Now, though, Quinn saw a different side of her. This must be the woman who had united Republic soldiers with Imperials in a consolidated power network to take over an enemy empire. By the time they left the main base to head out into unpatrolled Iokath, the Imperial soldiers were making off-color jokes to her to make her smile, and he looked at her, standing with them, her head thrown back in laughter, and he knew he was very much in danger of being even more in love with her than he'd ever been. She'd always been so driven and so determined, but now she was a leader. An Empress of a great empire, and great power. Someone beloved by her army and her officers and trusted advisers.

And loved by Theron Shan, and possibly the former Emperor of Zakuul. It was hard to compete with that, if he was completely honest with himself. Both of them were considerably younger than him, closer to her age, more accomplished, and in Arcann's case, vastly more powerful. What could he even begin to offer her?

As they moved out into the more dangerous open regions of Iokath, Selirah showed her trust in his ability to watch her back. Her lightsaber was as quick and efficient as ever, but he noticed that she'd become more aware of him behind her. She used defense now as easily as offense, and strove to keep bolts from reaching him at all, if she could spare the time to deflect them. Quinn knew that this style of fighting had not developed recently; it was far too fluid and instinctive, habitual. She must have shifted to the more defensive forms while she had been gone, in order to protect her followers. And to protect Theron. It ate at him when he gave it too much thought, realizing how much of her life had changed while she'd been in Wild Space, and how much it was entwined inextricably now with the Republic agent. But for now, he was with her, and Theron wasn't, so he pushed the thoughts of the other man away resolutely as she charged into a new group of enemy droids with her usual brutal aggression. 

Selirah was humming a song to herself.. he could hear it even over the sounds of the combat, whenever there was a brief lull in the noises of destruction. He remembered her doing that in her morning warm ups and practices, humming softly in time with her movements, graceful and lethal. It'd been one of those mornings when she'd told him her name in her native tongue, one of the first mornings after she'd accepted his marriage proposal. They'd spent so much time talking, then. At least, he had. When he'd thought back on it later, he'd realized that she was mostly a very attentive listener, and that she rarely offered any information about herself. So he'd begun to make an effort to draw facts out of her about her life before she'd become Baras' apprentice. And that day, she'd come to him, still breathing heavily from her exertion in the hold during her morning exercises, sat down cross-legged next to him, and laid her head down on his shoulder. He remembered her voice in his ear, soft and trusting. _My clan name is Rha,_ she'd told him obligingly when he'd asked for her to tell him about her childhood. _And I was named Seela, so my name in Rylothean is Seela'rha. When I came to the Academy, it was the first thing I did.. changing my name to something that didn't suggest 'alien' so pointedly. So I am Selirah, now, and not Seela'rha. And now you know something about me that very few others can claim to know, Malavai._

A larger droid was hastening towards the battle, but Quinn winged it twice before it reached her, hitting it more solidly with a shot to the body that drew its attention. His blaster fire made the huge droid stagger, and it turned on him, coming towards him. Selirah's lightsaber left her hand, describing a wide, parabolic arc that brought the spinning blade directly into contact with the droid's back, cutting a smoking, C-shaped fissure into the metal of its carapace and pulling its attention back towards her. She shoved it with the force, making the multiple-legged robot stagger and then charge her. Quinn kept firing at it, trying to cripple the legs, slow the thing or at least make it less accurate as it swung at her, driving Selirah's feet back, and back again. He realized, abruptly, that she was coming nearer and nearer to the edge of the big octagonal platform, and that he could see open air behind it. One of the Eternal Fleet ships sailed slowly by out in the ether, nearly close enough to be hit by the blaster bolts as the droid fired at Selirah's legs, forcing her to spin out of the way. She flung herself onto the droid, her saber slashing into the thing's heavily armored body, and both of them whirled around once as one unit, like a bizarre dance. Then they both fell over the edge.

His shout sounded almost like a sob to his ears when he thought about it later, but Quinn didn't care. She had been defending him, protecting him so that the droid couldn't get to him, and now she was gone, over the side. He skidded across the metal plated ground, his boots barely stopping before the edge as he went to his knees and looked over. There was a small outcropping below, only a few feet wide, and he could see the crumpled metal form of the droid laying half-on and half-off the platform. He couldn't see Selirah, and panic clutched his heart. He called her name, and the droid made a grinding, painful sound.

Then he heard the laughing. She was _-laughing-_!

It was coming from underneath the droid, and as Quinn watched, horrified, the metal body lifted slowly, her outstretched hands heaving it off herself and into the void beyond, still giggling. “Did you see that, Quinn? Nearly squashed me,” she managed, and he felt for just one second like pushing her off too, for scaring him so badly. 

“I thought you were dead,” he said before he could catch himself, realizing that it sounded accusatory. “Are you alright, my lord?” He bent further over the edge, offering her his hand. 

Selirah got to her feet and took his hand in hers, letting him help her up over the edge. “I'm fine. You should have seen your face when you looked over that edge.” Sprawling on the ground as she dragged herself up over the lip of the platform, she giggled again, and Quinn shook his head disbelievingly. 

“It's not funny! What if you'd fallen off of there?” he retorted, feeling stung by her amusement. “You're impossible!”

“Lana says the same thing. Theron says I'm giving him grey hairs.” Stretching her legs, Selirah flexed her toes downward in their plated boots, turning her head to the side to look at Quinn. Her violet eyes sparkled with laughter, her lips curved into a wide smile. “I'm sorry to have scared you. No one would have been surprised if I'd fallen off a planet with a droid, though. They wouldn't have blamed you.”

“Yes, my lord, they absolutely would have, and rightfully so. You should have let it come for me.” Quinn sat up, his dark blue eyes moving over her carefully as if he were making sure that all of her had made it back from the edge. “I am expendable, and you are not.”

Her eyes widened briefly, and she frowned. “No, Quinn. You're not expendable. No one in my alliance is expendable, not to me. You must forget that idea that you're not important. You're valuable to the alliance.”

Quinn looked startled, then an odd expression crossed his face. He sat in silence a moment, and then as if he'd been arguing with himself about saying it, he blurted out suddenly, “Only to the alliance, my lord?”

“Quinn..” Selirah closed her eyes, taking a slow breath. “Of course not. It has been so good to have you here with us. With me. It was indescribable to walk into my base and see you there, waiting. I hardly knew what to do when you turned around and faced me that day.” She sat up, one hand braced on the floor behind herself, one lekku wrapped around her neck in a loose curve, the end tucked over her shoulder. “I thought you would pull me aside and tell me... I don't know. I'm not sure what I expected. I just know that it wasn't what you -did- say to me. After all these years, I just assumed that you would have an entire life separate from me. That you would have forgotten about me.”

An incredulous expression widened Quinn's deep blue gaze, and he even smiled, that unexpectedly sweet, rare smile that she had always loved. It had, unfortunately, been another of the many casualties when their relationship had soured, and watching him smile now, Selirah felt a stir of warmth, remembering the first time he'd looked at her like that. “My lord, I could never forget about you. Not as long as I draw breath. If Lorman hadn't jailed me, I would have returned to your side long ago. I wish I hadn't hesitated when you were on Dromund Kaas. It was fear, and I regret enormously that I indulged it when I could have spoken to you then. Perhaps it wouldn't have changed anything, but I can't help feeling that my cowardice damaged your view of me even more.”

“No.. I don't think you were being a coward. Not in the least. I don't blame you for being unsure of your welcome. The way we left things, years ago.. “ Selirah looked away from him, and Quinn saw her jaw tighten, frustration in every tense line of her body. “I knew how terribly you felt for hurting me. I knew you were incredibly sorry about what you had done. And I knew that all you wanted was to have a chance to regain your standing in my eyes, and to regain my trust.”

“That remains one of my deepest hopes, my lord.”

“I was so furious with you, that you would side with him against me. All I could feel was my pain at your betrayal, but I never stopped to think of the position you'd been put into by Baras' orders. I didn't consider that you would feel like you had no choice but to obey him. And I'm sorry that I couldn't see that you were trapped.” Quinn watched her profile, watched her turn back towards him slowly, her amethyst eyes gazing at him thoughtfully. Her fingers lifted, one hand moving to touch his hand where it lay on his knee. Her gloved fingers brushed the back of his hand, sliding lightly across it, and then were withdrawn again. “It was wrong of me to lay all of the blame on your shoulders when you were in an impossible position, Quinn. You should have come to me, and let me help you, but I understand why you felt that you could not do that.”

“Thank you for your understanding. I would not have chosen to rebuke you then, and I would not presume to do it now... your pain at my betrayal was certainly more than fair, and I deserved your anger. But selfishly, I admit that I'm glad to hear that you have gained a different view of the situation over the stretch of our time apart. My lord, if I could make a request of you? I would prefer it if you would consider calling me Malavai again.” His hand curled into a light fist after she pulled her hand away. If he kept it closed, perhaps he would keep himself from reaching for her, he reasoned. “You are so informal with your own people. I don't want to be singled out by your address. I would like to fit in with them as much as possible.”

Selirah looked down at her hands. She could feel Arcann's faint presence, very light and unobtrusive in her mind. Tamping down her emotions, she kept her eyes off Quinn's face, making herself get to her feet. They needed to go back. She needed to have another task to occupy her, to keep her from thinking of the way he looked at her. To keep her from thinking of the way she probably looked at him. To keep her from wondering why she'd never finalized their split, never divorced him. He was still her husband, and when she looked at him, and he smiled at her, she remembered it in a bone-deep way that was dangerous. “You make a good point. I will do my best to do so, but it would be wise to also extend that courtesy to Lana, and Theron, and others perhaps. In time, when you are comfortable with it.”

Quinn rose as well, standing near her. Too near. Selirah backed away a step, and he wisely did not pursue or try to close the distance, knowing that she was not going to let the walls back down again for a while. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Selirah,” she corrected, and glanced at him, sidelong, catching the small, pleased smile on his lips before he hid it in a more bland, professional expression. “Empress, or Empress Selirah, if formality is required. But you know I prefer just my name.”

“I know. Selirah.” 

The way Quinn said her name, low and intimate... it made Selirah turn away again, hastily. She knew what he would see if he looked at her right now. And she knew she was doing a poor job of hiding her emotions from both him and the prince's touch though their bond. So she put distance between her and Quinn, striding down the ramp off the platform, leaving him to follow her. “Let's get going. We should get back and see if Lana needs us anywhere else, or if we can go back to the base. I'm starving... I'd like to go back, if there are no new fires to put out here.”

He was as quiet as she was on the way back to the Alliance base when they were cleared to return, but Selirah could feel Quinn's gaze on her several times, and she knew he definitely wasn't the one who was being a coward. 

That distinction belonged entirely to her. 

**Alliance base, Iokath:**

Quinn left her side when they arrived at the base, excusing himself to check on operations in the medical bay and replenish his personal kit. Selirah went on to the planning room, finding Theron and Lana there and joining them. 

“Seli,” Theron said, glancing at Lana before continuing. “I know you two have a lot of history, but he could be our traitor.”

“You mean Quinn?”

Lana nodded, adding to Theron's statement. “The question really is: do you trust Major Quinn?”

Selirah thought of the horror and shock on Quinn's face when he'd looked over the edge. He'd expected her to be dead, and his face... he'd been devastated. She had felt it in that moment from him, as clearly as anything. She'd laughed to defuse the situation, and ease his strain, but his feeling had been genuine. “Quinn and I have endured a great deal together. He would never betray me. Not again,” she told them calmly. 

“In that case, I'll cross him off the list of suspects,” Lana replied without hesitation.

“I'll promise you right now – whoever this traitor is, we will find them.” Theron moved to her side, his hand not quite touching hers. Selirah glanced at him, seeing the exhaustion in his face and the dark circles starting to gain prominence beneath tired hazel eyes. 

“And we'll make them pay,” Lana agreed, her golden eyes determined. She seemed to see what Selirah saw, her gaze worried as she looked at Theron. 

“I know you will. While you are searching, I'm going to go win the war they started. Right after I get something to eat.”

Lana chuckled. “A good idea. Theron, why don't you go with her? I can handle this for a while, and I'm sure you could use something to eat as well.”

He looked puzzled for a moment, as if the idea of eating hadn't crossed his mind, and the women exchanged another look. “Sure, I could eat,” Theron answered finally, a ghost of his usual smile appearing on his face. “Let's see what's on the menu today.”

“Can't be half as bad as what the soldiers were complaining about eating at Acina's camp,” Selirah confided, taking Theron's arm and leading him out of the room. “I think she subscribes to Aygo's theory that it only has to be good -for- you, not necessarily good -tasting-.”

Lana was relieved to hear Theron's distinctive laugh as the pair left, but just the same, she sat down to compose a note to the Empress about her concerns for the agent. His father's death had hit him hard, and he was not sleeping well. It couldn't hurt to see if Selirah had any ideas.

This lull couldn't last too long, and she knew she'd need Theron's help to find the traitor before they did even more damage.


	68. A Momentary Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Selirah discuss plans going forward at So Early o'clock. 
> 
> Quinn is too clever for his own good. 
> 
> Plans change, and Lana and Theron head to Odessen to find a traitor. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Arcann heads to Iokath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Stuff Continues.**
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> It's hot like Tattooine here right now, so there isn't much to do -but- write. *fans self* But I did spend a lot of credits and time tonight playing around with the Manaan stronghold. I dig it. ;) It's compact, but I love water and I'm enjoying fiddling with decorations in there.
> 
> I did a couple of quick edits after I posted it. I try not to add sentences, etc.. but this time I needed to. *laughs* All done now.

Theron woke up with a start, his throat tight and heart pounding with shock and fear. Another nightmare about his father. Another dream about being too late to stop Malcom from taking the steps that had led to his death. He rubbed his face and ran one hand through his hair, sitting up in bed slowly, intending to be sure that he didn't awaken Selirah. The room was dark, but after a moment, he could see the soft light of a datapad over near the couch that dominated the front half of the room. Selirah sat there on the couch, dressed in one of Arcann's shirts, with a light blanket flung over her legs. 

“How long have you been awake, Seli?” Theron pushed the covers off his legs, getting out of bed. “Did I wake you up?”

She looked up from the screen, the lighting making odd shadows and shapes on her face. “Just for a half an hour or so, love. It's nothing to worry about.. I was going to come back to bed in a few minutes.” Theron sank down on the couch with her, glancing at the datapad briefly. He knew that he'd woken her, probably the last time he'd come awake like a blaster shot, and nearly shoved her out of bed in the process. He also knew it would be pointless to try to make her admit it, because she didn't want him to feel self-conscious about the dreams that had been troubling him. 

“Writing to Arcann again? He's certainly kept everything going smoothly at home.”

Selirah smiled wistfully, settling back against the couch and leaning against Theron's side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “He's done perfectly. Probably better than I would have, and I'm glad that he's handled it all so well, even the dissent from some quarters. But I miss him.”

“He'll be coming here, soon enough, when Lana rotates back with Torian and some of the troops. And you could certainly use his help when you're out patrolling and keeping the droids from overwhelming the Imperial base camp. Between them and the Republic, Acina's wearing you down, and you shouldn't be taking so much on yourself. I need to start going out with you more...”

“No, Theron,” she said gently, but in a firm way that did not brook argument, leaning her head against his shoulder, crimson fingers tapping out the message on the datapad balanced on one knee. “I need you working closely with Lana to isolate this traitor for me. I admit that I am tired, but... I'll be alright. We can't spare you for field work right now.”

“And we can spare you? You are not a grunt, love. This shouldn't be something that you have to do. That's why you have an army at your fingertips. Two.. if we count Acina's forces. It doesn't have to be -you- every day.”

Her smile was faint, but visible in the soft light. Sending the letter to Arcann, she turned to Theron, her eyes stripped of their color by the greenish-yellow glow of the datapad. “I may be the leader of this odd group, but I am definitely a glorified grunt, and you know that as well as I do. Anyway, it's not just me, Theron. The soldiers are working just as hard every day, but I need fresh troops here on the ground. I'll keep going till they get here, then maybe I can take a few days to rest and catch up on my sleep.” She pushed the blanket on her lap to the side, and got to her feet, offering a hand to him and helping him to rise from the couch. “Speaking of sleep.. let's go back to bed, hmm? Lana will blame me if you are too tired to help her with the preparation for the interviews, and I hate it when she blames me.” 

Theron wanted to protest, or find some other pretext to avoid going back to sleep. The nightmares were always waiting for him the moment he closed his eyes, making him relive every terrible moment of his father's activation of the superweapon, and his death. Sometimes, he dreamed that his father had shot Selirah, that he'd killed her right in front of him, and that dream usually ended with him murdering his own father, hands covered in blood. He'd woken up screaming from that one more than once, but Selirah had never complained, even though he knew how much she hated to be woken up abruptly out of a sound sleep. She always just rolled over wordlessly and wrapped her arms around him, her body's warmth soothing him enough to help him drift off after his heartbeat returned to normal. He was grateful for her quiet acceptance, and her patience with his inability to talk about the grief and anger that was eating him up on the inside. She didn't even make any of her Sith-y comments about using his anger, and he -knew- she had to be just bursting with them around him. 

But some part of him was grateful that he had the option of going back to Odessen with Lana to continue their interviews of the Alliance's key members, if it turned out she would need his assistance. A lot of them were going to be angry about the inquisition, but not nearly as angry as they would have been if Selirah had gone along with Lana's insane idea to spy on all of them. He knew that things were done differently in the Empire, and he'd been surprised that Seli had refused. It'd seemed like an efficient, if cold-blooded, way to get to the core of the matter quickly. But she had said no. Theron hadn't thought about it at the time, but he wondered if her decision had been at all influenced by Quinn's return. She'd been adamant in the face of any idea of suspecting the Major of being the traitor, and she'd certainly gotten a hefty crash course in the results of a lack of trust with the disintegration of their relationship after his betrayal years ago. No matter why she'd refused, he was glad that she had done it. Lana was still miffed about it, and made comments about how they'd probably already have the traitor in hand if they'd just done the surveillance as she'd wanted. But Theron knew that Selirah's decision had been the correct one.

And that made him feel guilty about his anger at her for choosing to ally with the Sith Empire. It was really selfish and short-sighted to only approve of the decisions that supported his point of view. But that's exactly what he'd done. And realizing now that she did consider the ramifications of her choices, and made the most carefully considered decision that she could in the moment, he knew that she'd done the same when she'd made that choice. It hadn't been about Quinn, or about Theron, or about the fact that she had been raised as an Imperial and a Sith. It'd been about the most suitable ally to align herself with, and Acina had backed them before and had proven her willingness to work with Selirah. 

Theron lay on his back in bed, feeling Seli shift her weight, curling up the way she always did when she was falling asleep. Five minutes after she'd actually -gone- to sleep, she'd be sprawled everywhere, taking up most of the bed. But for now, she was a compact little hot water bottle next to him, and he felt her hand slip into his, holding it lightly, and smiled in the darkness. No, she'd made the right choice for her people. And so had he, when he'd told his father that he would not leave her. Selirah had given Malcom multiple chances to do the right thing, to listen to reason. She'd tried to prevent the very situation that had happened. In the end, that had been Malcom's choice, not hers, and not Theron's. His father was gone, his mother had never been a presence in his life of her own volition. But he had Selirah, Arcann, Lana, the Alliance... he wasn't alone. He just needed to try to remember that.

One obstinately strong, slender arm stretched out slowly across the bed in the beginnings of Selirah's nightly takeover of the space, and rather than let her move away from him in her sleep, Theron pulled her close against him. He knew she'd work her way free eventually, but until then, he could enjoy the touch and spicy-sweet scent of her skin, and the warmth of her body. It helped, feeling her close to him, knowing that he hadn't lost everything that mattered.

When Selirah woke up the next morning, she was alone again. But Theron hadn't woken her up during the night, either, which was a positive sign. She had no illusions that he was feeling better about his father's death, but at least he'd gotten a decent amount of rest for one night. 

Rolling over, she caught sight of a still-steaming cup of spiced caf sitting on the table next to the bed. The room was empty, and Theron never left caf for her, because he knew it was likely to end up cold before she woke up. Someone else had left it, and it had to be someone who was acquainted with her usual sleeping schedule. Arcann wasn't on Iokath, so that only left...

“Quinn.... Sorry. Malavai.” Selirah caught herself as she jogged down the hallway, catching up with Quinn where she'd seen him emerging from the medical bay. “Did you... that cup of caf by my bed... was that you?”

His dark blue eyes softened when he turned to look at her, and he nodded, claiming responsibility. She saw the faint color rising in his pale cheeks, and smiled at him, watching his expression ease into relief. “I apologize for invading your sanctum, but I thought perhaps it would help you to get on your feet after you woke up if you had a cup waiting for you. I hope that it was acceptable for me to be so forward.”

“I appreciated the kindness, thank you.” She walked beside him into the main building, but then hesitated before turning aside to meet with Lana and Theron. “Some of the soldiers are rotating home to Odessen, along with Lana and Torian.” Selirah glanced at Quinn, her eyes meeting his, then sliding away as she pushed onward, “I'm not sure if you would like to accompany them back there and get to know my people? Aygo might appreciate your ideas for the military, and Pierce and Vette are there. So is Darth Nox, and Lyorek, and I know you likely remember them both. It's your choice, but I thought I would offer. In case you didn't know that it was an option.”

Quinn looked briefly startled, but then his usual mask of professionalism settled back onto his handsome face, and he moved closer to the wall to be out of the way, waiting for her to join him before he spoke. “Is it your idea that I should go there, or is it someone else's idea?” he said finally, his eyes falling to her face. 

Her eyes widened. “No! It's no one else's idea. But I wasn't intending to imply that I wanted you to go, Malavai. That wasn't my reason for telling you. I was just trying to present an additional option to you. You've said to me that you felt you should get to know my followers and my team. Accompanying those who are going back would be one way to do that, if you wanted. It's not as if you couldn't return to Iokath if you wished, should you decide to go to Odessen.”

Quinn considered her words, his expression giving nothing away of what he was thinking. Soldiers and repair staff came and went down the hallway, but neither of them looked away from each other, and he could see something in her eyes, some trepidation that he was certain was tied in to the decision she was waiting for him to make. “I do want to know your Alliance, and get to know all the people who have been with you in your journey to your throne. I'm sure they're quite a colorful group,” he began deliberately, and saw a flash of obvious relief show in her violet eyes at the implication that he was going to accept her idea of going to Odessen. “But I think perhaps for the time being, I will remain here on Iokath. You still need my services as a medic to be certain that your side heals fully, and I would not like to leave your care to one of the droids.” 

Selirah's expression was almost comically panicked for the smallest of seconds, but then she smiled, a forced, nervous curve of the lips. “Perfect. Then you'll stay here, and the staff will rotate back, with some fresh soldiers coming here to spell the exhausted front line ranks. Lana has work to do that requires her presence on Odessen.”

“And Theron?” Quinn asked calmly, making no real effort to pretend that he wasn't hoping that she would say that the agent would be going to Odessen with Lana.

“He's staying here. With me.” She gave him a narrow-eyed, slightly annoyed glance, but then she stepped back, turning away towards the mission center. “I must go meet with Lana. I'm sure we'll talk later, Malavai.”

“I'm sure we will, Selirah.” Quinn watched her walk down the hall, her back stiff with affront, and he knew that he was going to get his answers very soon. She had wanted him to go to Odessen. Therefore, whomever she hadn't wanted him to see was almost certainly going to be coming here. He could be patient for one more day.

But then he would finally have the whole picture. It was impossible to strategize without knowing the lay of the land, after all.

**Mission Planning, Iokath:**

Lana was pacing back and forth, going over lists of interview subjects and questions with Theron. Selirah, draped over the edge of the holo table on her back with both of her lekku trailing over the side, looked half asleep, but as she listened to the two of them bickering about how to conduct the interviews, she spoke up tiredly. “Theron, I know you want to be in on the interviews, and Lana, you should have Theron to help you. The obvious solution here is that Theron needs to go back to Odessen too, and both of you can work your way through the interviews, get any lists of possible suspects, and then Theron can return with the next shift rotation.”

Both of them were quiet for a minute, and she could see them glancing at each other with identical expressions of tired surprise. “That would be ideal, but... Theron, do you mind? It would be a lot easier for us to finish this quickly if we are both working together,” Lana said, glancing at the growing list of questions and potential suspects. 

“I don't particularly want to leave you, Seli, but... you're right, it's the only thing that makes sense. I can't conduct the interviews with any kind of accuracy from here, and Lana will be overwhelmed quickly with so many people to go through. We need to eliminate as many suspects as possible, as fast as possible. I don't like you being here without us, though, particularly with a traitor here somewhere.”

Lana considered Theron's words briefly, then shrugged pragmatically. “If we are going back, then there's no reason that Arcann can't come here for longer than the brief visit he had planned to see you, Empress. I can see to the day to day running of the Alliance while he is here, and you will have someone strong at your side.” 

“I'm going to keep Alyxia here, as well, and perhaps you should rotate Kasseri to Iokath. And see that Major Pierce is in Arcann's detail.” Tucking her hand behind her neck, Selirah kicked one leg idly where it dangled off the holo table, humming softly to herself as she thought. “I had a meeting tomorrow. With...” she said, leaving the sentence dangling expectantly.

Without missing a beat, Lana instantly supplied, “The Scions. They arrived... shortly after I did, I believe. But they've been as useful to our efforts as they were to unseating Arcann. Which is to say.. not at all.” Selirah laughed, turning to look out the window where she lay, gazing out on the slow ballet of the Eternal Fleet ships as they sailed past. “I would not suggest taking him with you, when you go. You know how the Scions feel about Arcann, and vice versa. Perhaps Alyxia, or Pierce. If that's all.. we should prepare to leave.”

“Tell them to come ahead. If they're going to be here for the meeting tomorrow, I need them here. That's all, Lana. Thank you.” Selirah remained where she was as Lana left to implement the orders and changes, and Theron came over to the holo table, sitting on the edge near her head. “I don't want you to go to Odessen without me, Theron,” she admitted, pulling her attention from the serene view of the window so that she could look up at him. “But I can't leave here. It's too unstable. And Lana needs you.” 

Theron smiled, his hazel eyes taking in her lazy, comfortable sprawl. “I don't want to go without you either. But you're right, and it's not as if this is the first time we've had to take separate vacations.” He ran his fingers slowly down the length of her arm. “With any luck, we'll isolate the potential traitor quickly. I'm mostly worried about you. You took a pretty hard jolt in that throne, and they will certainly try something again since that attempt failed. Arcann had better take good care of you for me.”

“I'm sure he'll do his best, but you know how easily distracted and flighty he is,” she replied teasingly, and Theron laughed, the sound still bringing a smile immediately to Selirah's lips. She sat up, sliding off the table to the floor, pulling Theron to his feet and close to her in one smooth tug. The startled look on his face at the open show of affection was worth the impudent whistles and clapping from the technicians working in the room as she locked her fingers around the nape of his neck and leaned up on her toes, kissing him. Theron was only surprised for a moment, though, and responding with his usual aplomb to the attention they were getting, bent her back over his arm, making the kiss into a holo-romance worthy spectacle until Selirah ruined it by starting to laugh against his mouth. “Show off.” 

He tightened his arms around her, careful of her tender side, and smiled down at her, giving her a softer, affectionate kiss. “I love you, Seli. Be careful. I know that's not really your style, but... try. For me.” 

“I love you, too. I'll do my best. For you.”

This time, the techs had enough decorum to turn their backs and give the pair some privacy, letting them say their goodbye.


	69. How To Be A Heartbreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann arrives on Iokath, and there's friction almost from the minute he sets foot on the planet.
> 
> Selirah and Arcann have several differences of opinion.
> 
> When Seli goes to her meeting, Arcann decides to have a meeting of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers!**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Also.. smut. ;)

**Alliance Base Courtyard, Iokath:**

The base had been a hive of activity for hours. The team here had nearly halved overnight as part of the Iokath forces rotated home to Odessen, and the replacements were currently en route to Iokath. Excitement hummed through the remaining personnel, and everyone was working with more energy now that fresh soldiers would be arriving to help with the war against the Republic. 

Quinn came out of the main base entrance, stopping just before he stepped out into the bustling courtyard, filled with equipment and shuttles. The technicians were touchy in transition times, and he knew better than to go anywhere that he was likely to be seen as being in the way. Even so, his eyes found the crimson Twi'lek perched atop a pile of stasis crates, her feet swinging idly like a child's as she read something on a datapad. Despite the careless motion of her legs, though, he could see concern written on her face, and he selfishly wished that she would look up, see him, and smile at him.

He glanced to the side, hearing the tram arriving at the base, disgorging a few of the first arrivals. A heavily armed bounty hunter with a helmet under her arm, her smooth head and grey-white skin and eyes marking her as Rattataki, walked out first, with an equally heavily armed, much taller man with an unfortunately familiar face and bearing. Major Pierce stepped down onto the courtyard, then turned back towards the tram expectantly instead of seeking out Selirah. Quinn realized he must have been part of a detail, along with the bounty hunter. When he cast a glance back at Selirah, he saw her head come up suddenly with a snap, and the naked expression of anticipation on her face made his heart clench in his chest. Her eyes lit, and for a moment, he was certain that the excitement written clearly on her face was for Pierce.

She dropped the datapad and launched herself off the crates. Quinn followed her with his eyes, watching her cross the courtyard at a dead run, and his already aching heart shivered agonizingly as she shot past Pierce as if he weren't even there. The barrel-chested soldier was laughing, so wherever she was going, it certainly wasn't a surprise to him, or to the Rattataki, who was watching avidly as Selirah heedlessly flung herself into the waiting arms of the tall, heavily scarred human man who had emerged a moment ago from the now-stationary tram. He caught her easily, his white and grey clothing and armor providing an attractive contrast against Selirah's habitual black and gold armor. Quinn could see her talking excitedly, and the amused smile curving the lips of the man holding his wife in his arms as he listened to her, with her booted feet dangling a foot off the ground. 

Then Quinn felt the sensation of eyes on him, and realized that Pierce had caught sight of him in the doorway. The burly soldier's expression was openly mocking, and he unfolded his arms enough to wiggle his fingers in a sarcastic greeting before pointedly looking back at Selirah and the man with her. The cut of the newcomer's clothing and armor was not typically Republic, or Imperial, though there were suggestions of Imperial styling in the lines. A lightsaber hilt hung at his hip, and the combination of the weapon and a better glimpse of the man's face triggered the knowledge that this was the former Emperor of Zakuul, the prince that had taken his powerful father's throne and the man who had nearly killed the woman that he was kissing now boldly in full view of everyone in the courtyard. Pierce whistled appreciatively, and the bounty hunter laughed, slapping him on the arm. 

Wrinkling his nose slightly at the display, Quinn schooled his expression to neutrality, turning away. But he didn't get far before he heard footsteps jogging behind him to catch up. Steeling himself, he turned around to face Pierce. “Come to gloat, Major?” 

“Give me a little credit. It's funny, sure. But it's not as if I don't understand how it feels to be on the outside looking in,” Pierce replied with a brawny shrug. “Gotta admit, I'm surprised you would even come back.” He glanced over his shoulder, clearly expecting Selirah to appear at any moment. “Why torture yourself, Quinn?”

“Why did -you- come back to her service?” Quinn answered plainly, and Pierce chuckled, acknowledging the point. “That's Arcann, isn't it?” 

“Yeah. Not going to pretend that I understand the whims of a Sith. But he dragged her out from under a collapsed factory wall after an attack that almost killed me, Broonmark, her, and a handful of Mandos. He dug till he found her, and pulled her free, and sat by her bed for days... I don't know.” He shrugged again, a bland, insouciant gesture. “Since he joined us, he's been completely loyal. The two of them are almost spooky to watch. Know what the other is thinking. It's something else. Force stuff, you know.”

Quinn didn't know, any more than Pierce did, but he understood the 'Sith, they're not like us' sentiment behind the phrase as well as any Imperial would have. “What kind of person is he?”

The soldier's expression was hard to read for a moment, and Quinn could almost see the gears turning as Pierce considered how to answer the question. “You remember that vorn tiger that attacked her on Alderaan? Cut her up like crazy even while she was chopping the thing up. She said it was beautiful, when you were patching her up.” Quinn nodded, remembering the incident. Selirah had nearly been gutted by the thing. She'd been watching it curiously; it was the first one they'd seen on the planet, and it had been a beautiful creature, muscular and luxuriously slow-moving, lounging on a rock by a river. When it came at her, she'd barely had time to react. A Sith.. caught unawares. But when he'd been putting her under to close the deep wounds the beast had left, all she'd said was _“Wasn't it beautiful?”_ as she'd drifted into unconsciousness. “He's like that. All predatory grace and the appearance of control, but you don't want to provoke him, because he's got a temper. He's really good with that lightsaber, but he might want to get up close and personal if you overstep.” Pierce made a fairly obvious and descriptive choking motion with one big hand. 

“I comprehend your meaning quite clearly, Major.” Quinn glanced past the bulky soldier and saw a glimpse of white rounding the corner and coming up the ramp. “They are here.”

“Listen to me. Don't be a fool, Quinn. It's not worth it,” Pierce said hastily, his voice low, then he moved past him to head down the hall towards the barracks, obviously having no desire to be standing next to Quinn when Selirah and Arcann reached him. 

Settling into a respectful and appropriate parade rest on his side of the hallway as Selirah approached, he could see her violet eyes flicker towards him, once, then again. Quinn waited, some part of him expecting that she would stop, introduce them at the very least. Something. But that wasn't exactly what happened. 

Instead, she slowed a moment, indecision written in every line of her body, and Arcann glanced sidelong at her, questioning her hesitation. The ice blue eyes noticed him along the wall, and flickered over him dismissively, a cool assessment that saw nothing of interest in a soldier moving out of the way of the Empress and a prince of Zakuul. Quinn took in the extensive scarring over the left side of the prince's face, and the cybernetic hand at the end of his sleeve in a quick glance as they passed by him, remembering what he'd been told about the initial attack that the Eternal Empire and its twin princes had made on the Sith home world of Korriban. Arcann spoke to Selirah, his voice a low, rich bass, rumbling softly in the space of the hallway. Quinn felt sick with jealousy as she walked past him, but then she stopped and he saw her square her shoulders before she turned back towards him. 

“Major Quinn. Could you send Alyxia and Kasseri to me in my quarters in a half an hour? I need their assistance for a meeting,” Selirah asked. “No. Make it an hour.” Quinn caught the faint, satisfied smile on the other man's lips and felt the spark of anger stir to life inside him. He knew that either of them might be able to sense his emotion, particularly with them so close to him, but he couldn't contain it. 

He met Selirah's eyes with his own, and she shook her head, very slightly, warning him. “Of course, Empress,” Quinn found himself saying, though he could feel a needling pain in his temple as the words left his mouth, a tension headache blooming behind his eyes. Selirah looked relieved, and for a moment, Quinn felt some of the anger ease. He'd wanted to know the truth, and now he knew it. He could get her alone and talk to her about it, later. He would figure this out.

“Seli.” The low rumble of Arcann's voice brought her head around, and Selirah nodded, moving to his side. Quinn was left in the hall as they headed towards the hall that led to her room. When they turned the corner, he relaxed his stance, dropping his arms to his sides. One hand slowly curled into a fist, the grip painfully tight. But then he saw Arcann reappear in the hall again, coming towards him purposefully. Pierce had been right to describe the prince as a predator, Quinn thought incongruously, resisting the sudden urge to back away as the muscular man approached. 

Selirah stopped in the entrance to the hall, and he heard her say disapprovingly, “Keella, don't.” 

Quinn froze, his mind recalling the word she'd used in her sleep, the one Theron had described off-handedly as a nickname. Then Arcann was between him and Selirah, and Quinn met the prince's pale blue eyes. “I have been impolite,” he said coolly, “in not offering my name, and Seli is often remiss in such niceties. I hope you will forgive us both, and please call me Arcann.” 

Bristling slightly, unable to help the anger and jealousy that flooded him, Quinn stiffly replied, “Of course, there is no need for an apology. On either part.” He knew that she had asked him to consider letting other people call him by his given name, but in this moment, with Arcann in front of him, he couldn't do it. It was too much, to give such latitude to him. “Quinn is perfectly fine. Everyone just calls me Quinn.”

“Everyone?” Arcann inquired archly, and there was something in his voice, a deliberate note of snide mockery. “Seli.. do you only call him Quinn?” 

“Enough, Arcann,” she said icily, and her anger flavored every staccato syllable, brooking no refusal. For a moment or two longer, as if to prove that he was deciding when it was enough, the prince stayed where he was. But then he took a step backwards before he turned, facing Selirah. Whatever was in his face made her roll her eyes in frustration. “Alyxia and Kass, if you please, Major. One hour.”

“You didn't tell me, Selirah,” Arcann snapped at her the moment they'd left Quinn, and she sighed, certain that he had likely heard the remark as clearly as she had. “You let me walk right past him, and you said nothing. You didn't say anything in any of your letters, either.” She could feel his anger, flooding her through their bond, but she said nothing in answer, waiting until they reached her room and some privacy. She opened the lock, and followed him through, palming it closed and locking it behind them.

“Of course I didn't. Because I knew you would act just like you did.” Perching on the side of the bed, Selirah slid one long boot down her leg, setting it on the floor. “If I'd told you before, you would have been working yourself up the whole time you were on Odessen.” The second boot joined the first, but Arcann seemed completely unwilling to be distracted by being in the same room with her, even though they had spent so much time apart. “Obviously there would have been no way to conceal his presence when you got here, so I'm not sure what you think my ultimate plan was, other than not wanting to give you an excuse to lose your temper. It's not as if you wouldn't have seen him, exactly as you did.”

Her reasonable tone only seemed to incense Arcann further, and he turned his back on her, staring at the door instead as if he suspected Quinn of being just outside in the hall. “Don't pretend that I am being unreasonable. You kept it from me on purpose. I knew that I was feeling some strange things from you. But you kept telling me that everything was fine.”

Exasperated, Selirah threw up her hands. “Everything -was- fine. Other than the traitor, which I -did- tell you about. Acina freed Quinn from jail, he was working with her when I arrived, and he resigned from her service to rejoin me and to join the Alliance. Would you have me turn him away?”

“Yes!” He nearly shouted his answer, pacing back and forth in front of the door. “Why wouldn't you? He betrayed you. He tried to kill you!”

“-You- tried to kill me, keella.” 

Arcann whirled around and glared at her. “That's unfair, and not the same. I was your enemy at the time, and I was most certainly not married to you. Though I would be, if you would say yes,” he threw back at her, and she rolled her eyes in answer, laying back on the bed.

“I can't.”

“What do you mean you can't? Can't say yes?” She could hear him stop pacing, then approach the bed, though he kept enough distance from her to make it clear that he was avoiding her attempts to derail the argument by drawing his attention to the bed. “Why not?”

“I don't want to talk about this.” Selirah's tone was flat and emotionless, empty. “You are picking a fight, and it's pointless, and I don't want to argue with you. Why aren't you glad to see me?”

Arcann's jaw clenched, frustrated, his scars paling at the tension. “I am glad to see you. I've missed you, and so I am understandably aggravated to find that you have been spending your time running around Iokath with your former husband without telling me. At least Theron had a reason to not warn me about that, though I'm surprised he didn't have objections as well, but you have no excuse except that you didn't want me to know.”

The fact that Theron had indeed had objections didn't seem like something that needed to be admitted to presently, so Selirah ignored it. “Keella, come here. Please.” She watched him, feeling the roiling uncertainty and anger emanating from him, waiting for him to choose, knowing that pushing him right now would only result in more escalation, more insecurity. It also didn't seem wise to admit that she loved seeing him angry, and that sometimes, she provoked his temper deliberately just to see him like this, seething with menace. He looked dangerous, and though she knew that the danger was to Quinn, and not to her, she still couldn't help feeling a hot rush of desire as the prince paced back and forth slowly, his frustrated fury surrounding him like an aura. Step by step, Arcann came closer, finally sinking down on the corner of the bed, his mouth set in an uncompromising line. 

“I'm not going to let you change the subject, Seli. We need to talk about this. And I want to know what you meant about not being able to say yes,” he told her pointedly. Selirah sat up, sliding over to kneel behind him, her knees on either side of his hips. Her hands ran slowly up over his arms, and she leaned forward, resting her cheek against his cropped hair. “I'm serious.”

“Of course. But maybe,” she said mildly, “we could talk about it later, in the evening, when it's quiet and I don't have a meeting to go to, and instead, we could actually appreciate the fact that we're together, and in the same room, and that I love you, and I've missed you.” Her teeth closed on his right ear, the pressure just barely not painful. She felt him stiffen under her hands, and her lips curved into a faint smile, and she bit down a little harder, just to make him twitch. “I've missed you quite a lot, as it happens.”

Arcann twisted to the side, and she released his ear, giving him an exasperated stare when he looked at her over his shoulder. “You always do this. You stop me from talking to you about something, and you tell me we'll talk about it later. And then later never arrives. Not this time, Seli. I want to know what you're hiding from me. I can feel it, you protecting something about him.” Before she could pull away, he half-turned, seizing her in his hands, dragging her onto his lap. “I want the truth. I love you. I'm committed to this, to us. I want to marry you. I want everyone to know what's between us. So tell me why you can't say yes.” He looked into her violet eyes, watching her mouth tighten in anger at him. But he could also feel something else under the anger, hidden and obscured, but still present. She was afraid, and panicked, and trying to keep it from him. The grip he had on her arms gentled, and he relented, changing his hold and putting his arms around her instead. “Seli, please. Just be honest with me.”

Selirah stared at him, her expression tense and wary. “There's nothing to tell,” she told him, and both of them could feel the lie burst into life between them. “Keella..” she tried again, and he could feel her fear of telling him the truth, of what it would do, and he saw that at least part of that fear was for the dark-haired Imperial officer, that she wanted to protect him. “I can't talk about this right now! I can't.” Twisting out of his grip, she pushed free, getting to her feet. “Why can't you leave it alone? Quinn has nothing to do with us.” 

“Seli, you know that's not true. He has everything to do with us. You can't just compartmentalize people in different parts of your mind and heart and pretend that it means that it's all separate.” Arcann stood as well, but she brushed his hand away angrily when he reached for her. “But I'm not going to try to force you to tell me.” Not, he reasoned to himself, when he was sure it would be easier to force Quinn to tell him. Selirah's meeting would keep her busy for a while, and he'd have plenty of time to find the other man. When he reached for her this time, she let him take her hand. Her eyes searched his face, and he knew she likely knew that he wasn't surrendering completely. But as long as she had the meeting with the Scions on her mind, she might not think that he would seek out Quinn for more information.

Selirah allowed Arcann to pull her closer, and he gave a sharp tug on her hand a moment later, tugging her against him. She leaned up, sliding the free hand around the back of his neck, guiding him down to meet her lips with his own. He had something in mind, she could tell. He'd folded too easily, and she knew him and the way he thought too well to think he was going to actually drop the subject. But the minutes were slipping away, and she didn't want an argument to be the way they parted after being separated for so long. And his hands were sliding down over her hips, pushing her leggings down, which was enormously, deliciously distracting. 

Sinking down to one knee, Arcann peeled them off her legs, letting her step out of them one foot after the other, pressing a kiss to the skin just above her knees before he rose back up, one hand trailing up the inside of her thigh lightly before sliding up the outside of her hip, fingers resting at her waist. Hooking her fingers under his belt, Selirah slipped her fingers around it, unfastening it with a flick of her wrist, dropping it to the floor. Their eyes locked, and she watched his face as she opened his pants, her hand gliding inside, fingers closing around him. His pupils widened in response to the pleasurable sensation, her hand sliding over his cock, thumb brushing over the tip playfully. The soft hiss of his breath between his teeth made her smile.

He lifted her in his hands, his lips touching her throat, and she closed her eyes, feeling a shiver go through her body when his teeth closed on her skin, biting teasingly. Arcann kissed her neck, the brush of his tongue against her skin washing away her thoughts, erasing anything but the sharp stab of lust. She could feel his smile against her skin, and his hands held her firmly against him, her legs wrapping around his hips as he turned. Not towards the bed, as she'd expected, but instead he carried her to the door of the room, pressing her back against it. 

Selirah rocked her hips against his, her legs tightening around him, and he leaned his upper body into hers, his mouth finding her lips. With her legs holding her up, he moved his hands to the door, above her head, and her hand found him again, stroking the rigid length of his shaft with teasing fingers until he gasped against her mouth, his hips jerking helplessly. She shifted her hips, guiding him into her wet core, and he drove his hips forward and upwards, pinioning her roughly against the hard metal of the door. 

Biting back a cry of pleasure, Selirah brought her hands up to Arcann's shoulders, her nails digging into the leather of his tunic. His forehead rested against hers for a moment, his body buried in hers. She could feel his shoulders flex under her hands, his breathing ragged with the same need that sang through her mind, desire flooding both of them through the bond. He fought for control, and slowly his breathing slowed. There was no lessening of the passion she could feel from him, but when he moved again, it was deliberate, unhurried. She spared a thought to worry about Alyxia and Kass coming to the door, sooner than either of them would probably want, but the thought shredded like tissue when his hands gripped her legs behind the knees, unwrapping them from around his hips and spreading her thighs apart, holding her there with her back pressed to the cool door, and drove back into her. Long, slow strokes, both of them lost in the pleasure, their bodies moving together in languid thrusts. 

He held her there, helpless in his hands, until he felt her tensing against him. Her eyes closed, head falling back against the door, and Arcann watched her bite her lip, muffling her soft, breathless cries of pleasure as she came for him. He had to hold himself completely still throughout her climax, the sensation of her body squeezing around him almost too much of a good thing to bear, her emotions washing over him like a wave. Selirah's eyes opened, half-lidded, slumberous with satisfaction, and he lifted her away from the door, carrying her easily. She twined her legs around his waist again, and he laid her back on the bed, his cybernetic hand pressed into the sheets next to her head for balance as he brought up one knee onto the bed, then the other, feeling the silky skin of her thighs brush against the outside of his hips. His free hand pushed his pants down the rest of the way, kicking them off onto the floor, and she arched her hips up, grinding against him, making him shiver. 

“Seli.” Arcann waited until she looked at him, her eyes focusing on his face. “I missed you.” She smiled lazily at him, hips circling against his slowly, the pleasure of feeling him inside her making her breathing catch in her throat. He thrust into her, balanced over her. One hand cupped her cheek, his fingers caressing the line of her jaw before gliding down to encircle her throat. His thumb stroked over her neck, feeling the throb of her pulse underneath the crimson skin. 

“I missed you too, keella,” Selirah replied, rocking her hips up to meet his eagerly as he slid into her again, a soft whimper escaping her lips. “Mm.. is it time for the meeting?” He laughed in response, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. 

“Maybe. They can wait. You're the Empress, love,” he told her, his deep voice rumbling with amusement. She felt the touch of his hand on her throat with a frisson of enjoyment, the implied threat of it exciting her. His fingers tightened slightly, and she shuddered under him, the next breath coming a little harder through the gentle pressure. Her head began to swim, pulse beating faster under his thumb, and he loosened his fingers as her eyes lost focus, watching her take a deep breath with obvious pleasure in his light blue gaze, knowing that she enjoyed the sensation and found it as arousing as he did. 

His hand moved over her body, cupping her breast, fingers brushing the nipple. Arcann watched it tighten in response, holding his hips still, only the head of his cock still inside her, then thrust home again to watch her hips buck sharply up against his. He closed his eyes and let himself just enjoy the sensation of her legs around his waist, and the hot, slick core of her wrapped around him, taking him into her deeply. The controlled thrusts became more and more rough, and he could feel her hands on his lower back, urging him on. It's too much, after so long apart, and he lost his control at last, feeling her come apart under him, his own pleasure overwhelming him. The orgasm was intoxicating to every sense, including their shared bond, and he watched her beautiful violet eyes lose focus, fogging with desire, her body tensing and shuddering with release under him while he spilled into her for what felt to him like forever. 

Half-dozing, Selirah yawned, her head pillowed on his arm, one leg flung carelessly over Arcann's hips. She could hear voices outside, but it took a few minutes before she remembered her meeting. “Oh kriff! I forgot. They're out there right now, I have to go.” She dragged herself out of bed, tracking down her pants while Arcann watched unhelpfully, his head propped up on his hand. By the time she made it out the door, he was stretched back out again and looked asleep, so she left him to his rest. 

When the door slid closed behind her, Arcann opened his eyes, stretching lazily. Once he was certain that she wasn't going to come back for some forgotten item, he got up and dressed, lightsaber hilt hanging from his belt. It was time to have a conversation with Quinn.

**On The Other Side Of The Door:**

Alyxia and Kass strode behind Quinn, the former helmeted and the latter not. Alyxia hadn't said a word so far, at least that Quinn had heard. The helmet had inclined in silent agreement when he'd said that Selirah needed them to accompany her to a meeting, and Kass had slapped the side of it ringingly, getting belted in the arm in return by a heavily armored fist. Mandalorians. He'd managed to refrain from letting his disdain show on his face, and in return for that politeness, Kass had talked his ear off the entire way to Selirah's room. 

Raising his hand to activate the door chime and let her know that they were here, he found his wrist caught lightly in the worn black and grey grip of Alyxia's gloved hand. “Don't,” she said, her voice sounding slightly distorted through the helmet mic. 

“Don't?” he inquired stiffly, and she let go of his hand. He couldn't see her face, but he could almost feel the amused stare coming from behind the distinctive T-visor. “Why not? It's time for you to go, and she explicitly told me to bring you here at this time so that you would not be late.”

Kass laughed. “Ohhh, I get it.” She leaned against the far wall, folding her arms, and Alyxia took the same stance a moment later. He heard her say something, but he didn't understand it.. learning Mando'a had never been something that had greatly appealed to him. Kass snorted in response. “Really? Think she'll be out soon, then?” the Rattataki asked. 

Suddenly, it clicked in Quinn's mind why Alyxia had stopped him from ringing. He could feel both of the Mandalorian's gazes on him, but he couldn't stop the embarrassed flush from creeping up his neck, or heating his cheeks. “I... imagine you..”

“Heat signature,” Alyxia answered curtly. She was not much of a talker, Quinn surmised, trying to distract himself from the idea of what Arcann and Selirah were doing in the room just past the door. 

Kass was still snickering, and Alyxia reached out a hand, shoving her hard enough that the Rattataki dropped her helmet to the floor. “We'll wait, don't worry. You can go back to whatever you were doing,” Kass said cheerfully. She shoved back, and when Quinn rounded the corner, they looked inches away from punching each other, much to his annoyance. 

A short time later, he saw her stride through the base on her way to meet with the Scions, both Mandalorians helmeted and following her. The three women were talking; at least Selirah and Kasseri were talking, and Seli was laughing. She didn't see him, and he watched her until they vanished from sight. 

Which was right about the time that he heard Arcann's distinctively deep voice from behind him. “Hello again, Major Quinn. I think we need to have a talk, you and I.”


	70. Love The Way You Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah's meeting with the Scions is cryptic.
> 
> Arcann and Quinn's meeting reveals Selirah's secrets. It doesn't go particularly well for anyone.
> 
> Alyxia gets Arcann-sitting duty. She wants extra pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Iokath Spoilers** : Last bit of actual material from the cut scenes for the time being, with the Scions.
> 
> I've got a lot going on this weekend so I probably won't be able to touch a new chapter for a few days, but I won't be able to stay away for long, I'm sure. ;)

**Scion Quarters:**

The Scions had settled into an empty storage area, with makeshift tents and bedrolls. Selirah approached them slowly with Alyxia at her side and Kass on guard at the entrance, taking in the handful of Scions busily making the camp more presentable. One, a dark-skinned human woman with a calm demeanor, came to meet her, greeting her politely with an inclination of her head. “Outlander. The tapestry of fate joins us once more. We are all that remains of the Scions of Zakuul. We have come to aid your quest – just as the prophecy foretold.” 

Selirah smiled, but it somehow managed to be an unfriendly expression. Heskal might have been dead, but the Scions had not prevented him from calling Arcann to Asylum, and she had not forgotten the outcome of that particular choice, or the deaths that it had caused. “I've already toppled the Eternal Empire and taken the throne. What more can you help me with?” she inquired coolly, folding her arms across her chest. Alyxia stood behind her, slightly to her left, hands resting on her blasters in what passed for a neutral stance to the Mandalorian, though judging from the cautious glances she was receiving from the other Scions, it didn't translate terribly well to Zakuulans.

“You still face your greatest challenge: the God of Rage,” the woman explained.

“Every time I finish a great challenge, someone tells me I have another one to deal with. It's growing quite tiresome,” Selirah answered flatly. “You're talking about the giant droid. The superweapon.” 

The Scions exchanged a series of significant glances, and Selirah took in the interplay, her violet eyes narrowing consideringly as Oramis spoke again. “What you call a superweapon, we know as one of the Six Gods. They were forged on Iokath in a forgotten age. Their masters set them loose upon Zakuul, killing millions – and giving birth to our pantheon of gods. Now Tyth has reawakened, and his brethren will soon join him to destroy us all.”

“There must be a way to defeat Tyth – and stop the others from waking up.”

Oramis shook her head in denial. “They cannot be stopped, but they can be tamed. Your fate is already written. You will clash with the gods, and when you subdue them, you will be judged worthy to take possession of their shells. You will drive the titans against your Republic enemies – and become a god yourself.”

A flicker of interest lit Selirah's face, and she smiled faintly, this smile more genuine, if still far from friendly. “Did you see all this in one of your prophecies?”

“Only glimpses. You are destined to confront the gods. Beyond that, your fate remains unseen. Perhaps you will impress the God of Rage – and assume his mantle to march against the Republic. Or you will perish, and fade from history. I will contact you if we see more, Outlander. But for now, your ultimate fate is clouded in darkness.”

“Not very useful.” Alyxia's dry observation came as they left the building, and Kass fell in on the other side of the Twi'lek. The Rattataki was quiet for once, her helmeted visage searching the rooftops and keeping careful watch. The frequency of unexpected ambushes by the highly mobile and hostile droids of Iokath was enough reason to be cautious, even on relatively safe ground. 

“They have never been of much use to me. The last time they showed up, they nearly got me killed with their crazy ideas of fate. I'd just as soon do without their 'help'.” Selirah sighed, rubbing her right temple with two fingers, going over the leader's cryptic words. “If the other droids wake up, it's going to be a tough job to subdue them all. Even if we faced them one at a time.. I don't know. I'd feel better if Lana and Theron were still here, but now our forces are split to deal with the traitor and a war simultaneously.”

Alyxia listened in her usual silence, her fingers adjusting some settings on the interface panel on the back of her forearm with quick taps of surprising dexterity, given the heaviness of her gloves. “Hit the first one, assess strength,” she offered tersely as advice. 

Selirah nodded tiredly. “Probably so. I just hope it's a useful assessment of the other droids' abilities. Each 'god' represents a different idea or trait. They could all be very different to handle.”

“Have to start somewhere.” Alyxia switched positions abruptly with Kass, and the Rattataki fell in beside Selirah, loosening her helmet's seal and lifting it off. 

“She wants to be in on fighting the one you saw,” Kass said in a low voice, pitched conspiratorially, but still loud enough for Alyxia to pick up, proven by the other woman glancing back at them and making a rude gesture with one finger. “She does. So do I. Sounds like it'll be a bruising fight. These regular droids are too easy. I'd like a tougher one.”

Selirah chuckled. “We'll see, but I don't imagine I'll be in any position to turn down that kind of firepower. Remember we don't want it melted into a puddle, though. It'd be hard to turn it against the Republic if it's atomized.”

“Fight the giant god droid, but don't vaporize it. You Sith are so picky.” An amused grin crossed Kass' face as they came back to the main base, and she split off from them, calling out to another Mandalorian in greeting. 

Alyxia seemed disinclined to follow suit, however, and so they were together when they walked into the hallway in front of the mission planning room and headed for Selirah's private chambers.

**Alliance Base (Simultaneously):**

Quinn accompanied Arcann down the hallway toward Selirah's room, trepidation filling him. It didn't seem entirely wise to go somewhere private with him, but he knew he could not refuse the invitation, either. It was difficult to place the Zakuulan prince in a typical Imperial hierarchy, but as a consort of an Empress even not openly acknowledged, he had an obvious rank beyond even his birth as the son of the Emperor, and a placement that Quinn knew he could not overlook if he wished for Selirah to even consider a reconciliation of any kind with him. There was no reason to expect that Arcann wanted anything but a talk, he supposed. But Pierce's warning was still fresh in his thoughts.

Arcann opened the door, stepping aside to permit Quinn to enter first. “Have a seat,” he invited, gesturing at the couch and lounge chairs, and he waited until the other man had seated himself before he chose to sit as well, selecting the lounge chair across from the officer. “I hope that we can have a productive conversation. As you know, I was.. not informed of your presence.”

His back perfectly straight, inches away from the support of the back of the couch, Quinn folded his gloved hands neatly, regarding the other man calmly. “It did seem clear, from your initial reaction,” he agreed.

“I don't think that you knew, either. Is that a correct assumption on my part?”

Quinn cast around in his mind for a safe way to answer this, or a way to avoid the grilling that he could feel coming. But without being stubborn, or possibly insubordinate refusal.. “About you? No. The Empress had a considerable number of vital issues here to deal with, and Theron did not want to gossip, either. For good reason. I have no interest in finding fault in her for failing to inform me, however.”

“Don't you?” Arcann asked. He sounded incurious, though, and Quinn knew he was not really -asking- or expecting an answer. “Why would you return to her service after so long? I know what happened between you, and I know that she left you. So what would induce you to come back to her?” 

The question echoed Pierce's earlier, and Quinn had no better answer for Arcann than he had for the soldier. He drew a slow breath, and spoke decisively. “I failed to be loyal once, and she chose to allow me to live despite what I had done. My service to her is for life. Once I saw her here, I had to hope that she would permit me to return to work with her.”

Arcann regarded him silently, his ice-blue eyes revealing nothing of what he was thinking. Unlike Quinn, he lounged comfortably like a predator at leisure, his back pressed against the curve of the chair he had chosen and his cybernetic hand resting on his stomach, the elbow bent slightly above the hilt of his saber where it hung on his hip. “And she accepted. What else did you discuss with her?”

“With regret, I cannot talk about that with you unless the Empress personally gives me leave,” Quinn responded almost instantly. As for actual regret, there was none, but he wasn't foolish enough to be honest about his desire to keep some of his interactions with his wife to himself. He knew Arcann was probing for something, and he rather thought he knew what it was. “It's not my place to share those details.”

“Do you imagine that we keep secrets from each other, Quinn?” The younger man's expression was as cold as his pale eyes, but he could see his jaw tighten, an obvious sign of frustration. Pierce was certainly more observant than he once had been; he was correct about the prince being somewhat temperamental and short-fused. 

He shook his head, knowing that he would have to be careful of his footing now that there were visible cracks in the image of friendliness that Arcann had been giving him. “I would not begin to judge your relationship with the Empress.”

“You are so very cautious. She must have appreciated that about you, given how fond she is of keeping her business private,” Arcann observed, his deep voice carrying a faint note of threat that Quinn could not ignore. “She seems to trust you. Do you trust her?”

Quinn couldn't conceal his surprise, and his voice echoed the sentiment baldly, with no attempt to hide the affront. “Of course. With my life.”

“You would not ever wish to hurt her? Even though she no longer loves you?” The words stung, as Arcann had surely intended them to, but Quinn didn't allow himself to be goaded into an imprudent response.

“I would not presume to guess at her feelings, and I would defend her with my own life without a thought.”

A faint, triumphant smile touched Arcann's lips, the scars at the left side of his mouth paling when the expression tugged at the smooth skin there. “You believe she still loves you.” It was not a question, and he sat forward, leaning over his knees, his booted feet resting on either side of the lounge chair, elbows braced on his knees and his face intent on Quinn's. “That is why you came back.”

There was no right answer here, and Quinn knew it as well as Arcann did. They looked at each other, and the prince waited with the air of someone who hardly needed confirmation of his words to know that they were true. Quinn struggled internally with his answer, then he felt a calm settle over his mind. He was not going to be timid, or wait for her to come to him. He loved his wife. He'd done so many things wrong years ago, and lost her because of his betrayal. But she was here, and he was here, and he was not going to just let her go without admitting his feelings, even if for the moment, he was only admitting them to his wife's lover.

“Yes. I do.”

The words dropped into the silence of the room like a stone into a pond, and where the ripples were going to spread, Quinn had no idea. But the prince wore an expression of transparent surprise that he flattered himself also included a little respect for his courage. Or perhaps he was just picturing what it'd be like to throttle him to death without even dirtying his hands by touching him.

“Let's say you're correct,” Arcann said finally, his voice nearly a growl, “and she does have feelings for you. What exactly do you think you can do about it? Do you think that Theron would welcome you? Do you imagine that -I- would? Do you think any feelings that she has for you would outweigh how she feels for us?”

That had been another question that he'd hoped to get answered, even if it was somewhat indirectly. Quinn had wondered if the two of them got along, or if it was mere tolerance so that they could be with her. The way Arcann spoke, he and Theron were equal participants, even if Theron was the only one openly seen to be involved with her. Perhaps because of Arcann's past, or for some other esoteric reason that Selirah had for keeping things quiet. Perhaps Pierce's vague assessment of 'force stuff' had something to do with it, as well. Arcann had been correct about that much; she did love her secrets and her privacy. “I don't know what Agent Shan's position would be on the matter, though I believe I can reasonably infer that you don't support the idea,” Quinn responded pointedly. “She is Sith. I am in a unique position to understand what compromises living with a Sith sometimes require, unlike either you or Shan.”

Arcann's hands curled into fists, both of them simultaneously. Half-expecting the prince to simply punch him, Quinn sat back against the couch, putting a few more inches of distance between them. He had a feeling that his welcome here in her quarters was quickly running out, judging from the open expression of dislike on Arcann's face. “You had your opportunity with her, Quinn,” the prince said coldly, “and you destroyed it. She may still love you, on some level. But she moved on with her life. Do you think you would be enough to make her happy if Theron left her over you? If I did?”

Quinn stilled, his hands tensing where they were folded on his thighs. It was a perfect threat, he had to acknowledge. He had seen the unguarded emotion in her eyes when she'd watched Arcann step off the tram. She loved him. And he knew very well that she loved Theron.. the two of them wore it all over their faces when they were together. If she saw him as the instrument of destroying those relationships, it could be as poisonous as his betrayal had been all those years ago. He could see the calculation in the prince's eyes; he knew it too. 

The question was how far he'd be willing to take things in order to win, and Quinn had a feeling that Arcann did not like to lose.

“A fair hit. So we are at an impasse,” Quinn confessed. He couldn't hide the feeling of thwarted anger that he felt, and he knew that Arcann could sense it. But he was sure that Arcann wasn't feeling very pleased with the direction of their talk either. “I try to regain her heart, and you will make sure that I have cause to regret it. The problem here is that if I don't try, I will regret that even more. I'm sorry, but I can't just let her go. I should have fought harder years ago, before her relationship with Theron began, but she was so angry, and so hurt. I didn't have the heart to push when she looked at me and only saw what I'd done,” he continued calmly, his dark blue eyes flickering up to meet Arcann's frosty blue gaze. The prince looked, at best, very pissed off. But he appeared to be listening. What he was thinking behind those furious eyes was not something Quinn wanted to think about in too much detail, though. “What if you did what you threaten, and left, and it ended things between you? Would that be worth it, just to deal a fatal blow to me in the process?”

For a moment, Quinn thought he'd reached the other man, because he looked distant, his gaze unfocused, thoughtful. Then his eyes fixed on Quinn's face again, and he knew that he was wrong. Very wrong. “Yes,” Arcann told him inflexibly. “I would risk it. Theron might not, but he has always been the cautious one of the two of us. I know what I am to her, and she would not stay away from me for long. Don't think to test my resolve, Quinn. There is nothing that I won't do to keep from losing her.”

“I know what I am to her as well,” Quinn heard himself saying, finally feeling too provoked to let Arcann keep pushing him with impunity. “If she had wanted to be rid of me permanently, she would have ended our marriage, instead of just leaving me.”

“What? That.. no.” Surging to his feet with an incredulous look in his pale eyes, Arcann walked away from him, pacing the length of the room. Quinn rose slowly, straightening. “She left you. It's been years.” 

“She is still my wife,” Quinn said carefully. “But you obviously didn't know. Does Theron know?”

Arcann turned to look at him, and Quinn saw the expression of pain in his eyes. He knew that look. He'd seen it in Selirah's eyes on the transponder ship after she'd finished dismantling his assassin droids and disarming him. He'd seen it when she'd smashed him against the wall of the room without touching him. He'd been more than a trifle grateful that he had missed a lot of what had come next. When he'd finally come to, she'd been sitting on the floor beside him, and he remembered the look of helpless rage and hatred that she'd turned on him that moment. “I wish I could kill you,” she'd said to him, and he'd realized that the rage was directed at herself, that she hated herself, and not him. It'd been the worst feeling he'd ever experienced. At least, he'd thought so until the weeks and months had worn on, and she'd stopped even looking at him, or talking to him. Then he'd known that he'd truly broken her heart.

And that was the same look that was in Arcann's eyes right now. 

He didn't think Arcann would hate himself or be unable to kill him, however, he found himself thinking with an odd sense of calm when he felt the furious grip of the prince's power close around his throat. Then the grip tightened viciously, and spots started to dance in Quinn's vision. 

“Arcann! Stop! What are you doing? Put him down!” Selirah's voice rang out in the room, and Quinn felt himself hit the floor, but before he could collapse, he felt someone seize him around the chest, lifting him to his feet. It took him a few moments to realize that it was the Mandalorian, Alyxia. Her helmet was gone, and she had red hair, he noted with a detached sort of curiosity. She hauled him with surprisingly little effort over to the couch again, propping his head up with a cushion. Quinn lost sight of the bounty hunter for a moment, but then she was back with a drink in her hand that she offered indifferently to him with one hand, her attention clearly on the argument going on between Arcann and Selirah. 

“Was he lying to me? Are you still married to him, Selirah? Is this why you told me that you couldn't marry me?”

Selirah didn't answer immediately, and Quinn could see the panic on her face even from his position on the couch, which wasn't ideal for viewing what was going on. “Arcann.. please,” she tried, finally, but Arcann made a sharp gesture with his right hand, cutting her off. 

“Don't. I know you don't want to admit the truth. I can feel it.” Arcann turned away, and Quinn couldn't make himself look at the other man's wounded expression. He looked down at his cup, instead, but it didn't escape his attention how Alyxia stood between him and the prince. He wasn't certain she would have actually tried to do anything if Arcann had gone for him this time, but she looked as if she wouldn't allow him past her easily. The prince came nearer, but he stopped just out of the Mandalorian's arm's length, where Quinn couldn't quite see all of him around the bulk of Alyxia's armor and jetpack. “I should not have lost my temper, Major,” he said, though his tone didn't quite convey apology so much as a seething anger, one that was being swallowed down bitterly. “You were at least being honest with me.”

“Arcann.. we need to talk about this. Don't go.” Selirah crossed the room to his side, but she had barely touched his arm, trying to get him to turn around and face her, when he pulled away without a word and left the room. She stood there for a moment, torn between checking on Quinn and going after Arcann. Then she turned towards him, giving Alyxia a distracted nod of thanks. “Watch out for him. Make sure he doesn't do anything too.. destructive, and keep me apprised,” she told the bounty hunter. “Kass can take your patrol tonight.”

Then Alyxia was gone too, and it was just Selirah with him. She sat down on the edge of the couch, near his knees, her violet eyes distracted, stricken-looking. “Quinn... Malavai. Are you alright? I .. I came right away when I felt his anger. I should have realized he would have thought to talk to you, but I was worried about the superweapon, and the Scion meeting. It was stupid of me to not know that he would seek you out. I'm so sorry.”

“Those things are somewhat important,” he noted dryly, hoping to bring a little light to those bleak eyes, but she didn't even smile. She did, however, take one of his hands in hers, and he felt his pulse leap at the warm touch of her skin even through his gloves. “I let him provoke me, and I should not have said what I did. I'm not sure if this is better or worse, but I don't think he was even angry at me in that moment.”

“No, he was angry at me, and rightfully so. I thought of telling Theron, so many times, but it never seemed important. Theron is.. Theron, and I didn't think he would ever care to marry. I thought it wouldn't ever be an issue. I didn't even know if I'd ever see you again.” Selirah looked away, her jaw tensing with stress. “But Arcann. I knew he would want to have something to hold on to. He is different, and he craves proof that he is loved in a more direct way than Theron. I knew it would come up, and when it did, I didn't know what to say. I just put it off. I said we had to talk to Theron, then there was just no time, and too much happening, and... I put you at risk because I didn't want to admit the truth to him, Malavai. And I hurt him as well.” She looked sick, and so defeated. Quinn laid his free hand over hers where she was holding his hand, waiting until she looked at him. 

“I'm fine. Not that it was -pleasant-, but.. I'll be fine. What are you going to do?” 

She looked down at his hands, still holding hers, and gently withdrew her hand from his. “I don't know. Would you like me to have Pierce help you to your room, or to the medbay?” Quinn sighed internally, watching her retreating from him, into herself. “I am sorry. I know this is my fault. I'll fix it.”

“Selirah.” Quinn sat up carefully, but he was grateful to realize there was no reason for the caution. He felt alright, if a little winded still. No headache, no nausea. Just a desire to see something in her face that made him think he'd done the right thing, and that there was a reason to hope. “I'm not even certain how you juggle half of the things that you do in a day. You should have told them, perhaps, but.. I'm not blind enough to pretend that I can't see how they feel, either. He'll come back and talk to you after he cools off.”

“And I am not blind enough to think that you want that to happen, Malavai.” Her words were gentle, and even a little amused, and when he looked at her, he saw a small quirk of the lips at the corners. Not quite a smile. But.. it was close. “You don't understand, and I'm not sure I can make you understand. But keeping things to myself keeps blowing up in my face, so let me try to be honest with you. Do you remember when we found Jaesa's master, and how she felt his emotions and his pain and came to us there on Hutta?”

He nodded, his organized mind pulling up the incident, remembering the distress of the Jedi, of both of them, before Selirah had manipulated, pushed, and pulled Jaesa into rage at the constraints on her emotions and life, guiding her to follow the Twi'lek warrior instead of her fallen Jedi master. “I remember.”

“That link that Jedi padawans often share with their masters, that bond.. we can experience them too. They're not quite the same, but.. the end effect is similar. Understand, Malavai, that what I am telling you puts my life and his in your hands. I am trusting you with this, because regardless of your feelings about him, I do not think you would put me at risk,” Selirah told him quietly, and he looked into her eyes, feeling certain that he didn't like the way this conversation was going, or where it was headed. “These bonds can form in a number of ways, and at first, neither of us understood our growing affinity, or the way we could sense each other so easily. But the closer we got emotionally, the more it grew. I can't tell you what it's like, exactly, in a way that would make sense, but.. this link between us, it's not something I can break. Neither can he. We are bound, Arcann and I, for our lives, and if one of us is hurt.. the other often feels it as if they were injured too.”

Quinn was silent, turning this information over in his head, and then he asked, “That is why you are private about your relationship with him? The Alliance knows, of course, but.. you don't want anyone outside of those that you trust to find out about this.”

“It would be dangerous. Incredibly so. For both of us, really, but it would be a way for someone to control me, if they held him. I keep it quiet to protect him, and myself as well.”

“What does it mean for you?” he asked, but she looked at him astutely, waiting, and he amended his question. “He will always be bound to you, a part of you?” Selirah nodded. “For the rest of your lives?”

“Yes, Malavai. I didn't know how to even begin to have this conversation with you, the same way I had no idea how to tell Arcann that I had never formalized our split. It's so complicated. It seemed easier to let things play out.”

“I know. As much as I have always loved you, I've always known that you are terrible at being open and that you enjoy keeping secrets close. I understood it much better after I saw what went on with Sith politics. You were protecting yourself, and your team. But, Selirah.. this is -your- empire. Your Alliance. Theron is not a Sith. Arcann is not a Sith. I am not a Sith. And you? You are something more than a Sith and no longer subject to their failings and flawed system. You have to consider changing the way you are in your relationships, if you want to keep them. You have to be more open and honest.” 

“I can't deal with this right n...”

“Selirah, stop it.” Quinn interrupted her mid-sentence, and the startled look on her face at the unexpectedness of it almost made him smile. “You are doing what you always do. You can't keep putting everything off and hoping someone else will fix it or make it work for you.”

She gave him a disgusted look, but capitulated a moment later. “You're right. Alright, Malavai. You're here right now, so tell me what -you- want to happen.”

It was so tempting to ask for everything. It'd be so easy to say that he loved her, that he wanted his wife back. That he wanted their life back. To be at her side, as her husband. She was looking at him intently, with those beautiful eyes that he adored, and he knew he wanted to look at her, be with her, wake up next to her for the rest of his life. But he knew he couldn't say that to her, not yet. Selirah was listening, she was willing to try to handle things differently than her self-destructive habit had always decreed, and he wanted to say the right thing. “I want you to have dinner with me. Just the two of us, somewhere we can talk.”

The smile he'd been hoping for finally made an appearance. It was brief, and didn't linger, but he saw it and finally felt like this whole crazy Iokath situation could end up being the path he should always have taken. “Seems like a simple thing to ask, Malavai. Yes, I'll have dinner with you. We have some time apart to talk about.”

“And a great many more things. No hiding from the difficult questions, Selirah. I will promise the same thing, if you will try to be open with me.”

“I promise.”

He got to his feet, and she followed suit a moment later, her eyes lifting to his face. Quinn smiled at her, watching her expression soften in response, relaxing from the stress that had marked her features all day and had only intensified at the conflict with Arcann. “I'll see you tomorrow night for dinner, Selirah.”

Selirah watched him go before she sat down on the edge of her bed. There was a message waiting on her datapad, and she picked the device up, activating it and opening the update from Alyxia. 

_He's halfway drunk and more than halfway looking for a fight. Pierce is with me. Will apprise if anything changes. And I get hazard pay for bar fights. ~ Alyxia ___

__She lay down on the bed, and fatigue swept over her like a wave. When she woke up the next morning, still in all of her clothes and armor, Selirah felt sore and irritated, and she knew that Arcann had not come back to the room; his things were sitting where he had left them, untouched, and his side of the bed hadn't been touched either._ _

__But a steaming cup of spiced caf sat waiting on the table next to her._ _


	71. I Need My Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyxia and Kass amuse themselves watching Selirah and Arcann avoid running into each other.
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> Selirah and Quinn have dinner, but it doesn't quite go as planned, for either of them.
> 
> Selirah and Arcann have a failure to communicate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
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> Not really. Everything's mine here. But you know. Still on Iokath. So whatever. ;)

“I don't know how they do it, but this is like watching a dance,” Kass observed aloud, and Alyxia made a noise that the Rattataki interpreted as agreement. The two Mandalorians sat perched on one of the large equipment crates that afforded an excellent view of the hallways and courtyard of the base. Alyxia was cleaning her blasters, a cloth and oil laid out on the top of the crate, and Kass was eating some dried meat, chewing with what Alyxia felt was an excess of enthusiasm. “A dance of avoidance. Watch, here he comes.” 

Arcann came into view, crossing the courtyard from the main building. The moment he reached the doorway on the other side of the open space, Kass turned her attention to door behind their perch, and like she'd been waiting for his back to be towards her, Selirah came out, crossing the courtyard in the opposite direction. They'd been amusing themselves for a while now watching the way that the prince and the Empress were always very carefully where the other one was not. Sometimes they'd miss each other by less than a few seconds. Other times it seemed more obviously deliberate. But they never looked for the other, just.. never quite were in the same place. 

Kass tucked one foot under her opposite knee, swinging the other leg idly. Alyxia finished cleaning her blasters and began reassembling the pieces, her red hair hanging just below the line of her jaw, silky strands swinging slowly as her hands worked. For once, she had a minimum of armor and weaponry on, her gloves, helmet, and jetpack all missing, as well as her heavier ordnance launcher. A message flashed across the screen on her arm, and green eyes flicked over it briefly, a rare smile touching her lips.

“Ooh, smiling. That must be your riduur.” Kass snickered, and Alyxia reached over and punched her on the arm, making the other Mandalorian laugh all the harder when Aly belated realized she'd stupidly punched Kass' armor with a bare fist. 

Shaking out her sore fingers, Alyxia nodded. “He says he's rotating back soon as he can, so we'd best not have killed everything before he arrives. Boss is not feeling easy about fighting that droid. Might need more firepower.”

“If we need more firepower than an army, and you, and the boss, I'm not sure Torian's going to tip the scale, vod.” 

“Rather die beside him than apart,” Alyxia replied calmly, and Kass nodded, understanding the sentiment, even if she had never made that kind of connection herself. “Could always throw you at the droid if all else fails. Least you'd be good for something then.” Kass snorted in laughter, not offended by the mockery.

The two of them watched Selirah cross the courtyard again with two technicians talking rapidly at her, then seconds later, Arcann emerged from another hall and vanished into the main building. Kass shook her head, bemused, but then Selirah came back, the technicians looking agitated and trailing in her wake. “Kass. I'll need you and Pierce tonight for guard detail. Alyxia, Arcann will be with you for patrol.”

“He know that?” Alyxia asked in a dry tone, one auburn brow arching curiously over her green eyes. “Not gonna fight droids and drag him behind me. Too big to carry.”

“He knows. Just do what you do and keep the defenses from being overwhelmed.” Selirah glanced towards the main building, and turned back towards the door she'd reappeared out of moments ago, hastily walking across the courtyard and barely disappearing into the far building before the prince appeared, Major Pierce beside him with a sweet roll in his hands. The two men passed by the container, and Arcann didn't look up, his pale gaze fixed on the door that Selirah had gone through a moment ago. Pierce did, however, giving Kass and Alyxia a saucy wink from one dark brown eye. He flipped the sweet roll up into the air, and Kass snatched it expertly, taking a bite of the flaky pastry.

“You and me tonight, Major,” Kass said around a mouthful of the roll, making a kissing noise at him, and Pierce grinned, giving her a thumbs up.

Alyxia rolled her eyes, reaching over and tearing off a chunk of pastry over Kasseri's complaints. “Shut up. You have the easier job tonight.”

“Good point.”

**Selirah's room:**

Arriving with several droids, all of them loaded down with trays of drinks and food, Quinn keyed open the lock to Selirah's room. It was not quite time for their dinner, and he had hoped to beat her here, but once the door slid open, he saw her, seated at a small desk against the wall. She was working, her head bent over some reports and messages, and she waved a hand in absent greeting without looking up.

“I'm almost done. I won't look until you tell me that I can; I know how you like to have everything just so.” Her words held a hint of humor, but Quinn couldn't see her face to ascertain if she was smiling. He took her at her word, however, and set the droids to setting up around the long couch, bringing in a second small table to augment the space for dinner to be arranged. 

Despite her nonchalance and apparent workload, Selirah had evidently been preparing for their dinner together. Quinn could detect the sweet scent of her favorite kibo flower oil, and her lekku were bound lightly in thin, criss-crossed strips of leather, leaving them neatly wrapped in figure eight straps down the length of her back. She had even changed out of her armor for once, and wore a soft, long black skirt that rested low on her hips, a slit leaving one crimson leg bare. A purple and black top was cropped short, ending in the middle of her ribcage and leaving an expanse of stomach bare as well. 

It was difficult not to look at her instead of doing his preparation, which he felt certain was no accident on her part. She had always been aware of the effect that she had on the people around her, and was not in the least above using it to gain an advantage over them. Quinn knew he was no exception to that rule, but he didn't really mind being distracted by his wife's beauty. He had spent years apart from her; there was no harm in enjoying the view now. When the tables were set, and he'd finished arranging things to his satisfaction, he sent the droids away. Kass and Pierce stood outside, talking to each other in low voices. No one would easily get past either of them, and Quinn had to admit that he appreciated Selirah's forethought in assigning the two of them to assure her privacy. 

The door closed behind him, and he looked back at Selirah, her back curved slightly over her desk. She had one elbow propped up on the surface, her cheek resting on her fist, and he suppressed a smile at her obvious boredom with the text scrolling across her screen. It was the reason he'd always done most of the paperwork, with a little help from Jaesa and sometimes Vette or Pierce. “If you need more time to finish..” he began, suddenly feeling a knot of nerves. 

“No. I can't look at this any more. I need a break.” Selirah got to her feet, and as the silky material of her skirt spilled down around her legs, Quinn saw that she was barefoot beneath it. He remembered seeing her like this, informally attired, relaxed; not often, because she had a reasonable paranoia about being caught without armor by an enemy. But when they'd had some downtime, particularly when they'd first fallen in love, and after their marriage, they'd gone on short trips, or spent long weekends holed up in the huge, luxurious penthouse apartment that she'd bought them in Kaas City. And on those quiet days, when it'd just been the two of them, she'd let herself relax. It'd been a different side of her, one that he was certain didn't see much freedom now, with so much weight on her shoulders and responsibility always hanging over her. 

“Come and join me, then,” Quinn offered, that knot of sudden anticipation and uncertainty feeling like it'd tripled in size. He could do this. He just needed to take a deep breath, and relax.

She crossed the room, her lavender eyes taking in the lowered light level, and the surprising variation of food that he'd managed to put together in such a short time. “You were always so very resourceful,” Selirah noted with an amused glance towards him. “I can't begin to imagine how you found some of this.”

“It was impossible to find -all- of your favorites,” he admitted, watching Selirah drape herself comfortably over the couch, the slit in her skirt showing nearly all of one crimson leg. Joining her, he settled on the edge of the couch before making himself lean back more comfortably. “But I located as many as I could, and had to approximate a few more. But I found those sweet figs that you love. And one of the soldiers knew how to make that dish with the mushrooms and cream sauce that we had on Alderaan..”

She smiled at him, shaking her head in bemused humor. “Malavai, if you ever took it into your head to take over the galaxy, I would surrender without a shot fired, just to see what you would do. I think you would have this ragtag bunch running like well-oiled gears in no time at all.” She selected a number of delicacies and fruit, making a plate, and then laid it between them on the couch while he poured drinks for them both. “I wish that Acina had prevented Lorman from jailing you. You should have been helming your own ship and crew, or overseeing fleets. As much as I loved our Empire, we wasted so many valuable people.”

Handing her a drink, Quinn leaned back against the couch, watching her pick out a piece of fruit. She had a method to the way she liked to eat, and he'd arranged the platters to make the most of her preferred way of dining, with fruit and root vegetables, mostly raw, closest to her, and the cooked dishes for her once she'd finished with the lighter fare. He knew she wouldn't want dessert, so he hadn't bothered with it. Instead, he'd made certain there were sweeter drink options for later. “There is much that could stand to be changed about the Empire,” he agreed. “Empress Acina has made some excellent changes, and she has many very pragmatic views of the flaws that the Empire has suffered from for too long. I don't know that I would have wanted to advance to that level, however.”

“Why not? You have always been a model officer in every way. You excel at every task that you set yourself to doing.” Selirah had worked her way partway through her plate, and was slowing down, so he picked it up and set it aside, making up a plate with a selection of the cooked dishes, adding utensils and a few polished skewers filled with spicy meats. He knew better than to eat some of these things himself; the things that a Twi'lek could digest without trouble often were not even slightly palatable for humans. And she always seemed to enjoy having at least a few things that he couldn't tolerate, either due to the extreme level of heat, or simple unpalatability.

“I have no desire to aspire to that level of responsibility any longer,” Quinn answered, making a sparse plate for himself. He was too nervous to eat very much tonight, regardless of how delicious the food was, but he made a note to compliment the cooks, because they'd done a fine job with a short timeline and with him hovering over them and wanting everything perfect. “I'm not sure that I ever did, when I think about it. It was certainly my -intended- path, when I joined the military. But things changed, and I ended up on a very different trajectory. I knew years ago that I no longer wished to lead troops or helm a ship of my own.”

“You could have done better than taking care of a difficult Twi'lek for years, Malavai. You are talented, smart, accomplished. Pierce likes to tell me that there's nowhere to go from my service but down, but I don't think that's necessarily true for someone like you.” Selirah worked her way through one of the skewers of meat, delicately plucking one after another off the skewer with her teeth. The spice was burning hot, but delicious, and she made a little noise of enjoyment as she ate that brought a pleased smile to Quinn's face. 

“If you are saying that I have prospects above and beyond Pierce's, I'll take that for the compliment that it is intended to be,” Quinn replied dryly, and Selirah laughed in response. “He has certainly climbed higher than I imagined that he would, just the same. How long has he been back with you?”

Selirah hummed to herself, thinking, and then answered, “I found him shortly after we'd settled the Alliance forces on Odessen. We didn't have nearly enough seasoned soldiers, or soldiers at all, to be honest. When I heard that he had been sidelined to be used as a prop to convince people to join the military, I couldn't leave him there. He was miserable.” She ate a few pieces of sweet fruit, letting the juice cut through the spice still heating her mouth, setting down the wine she'd been drinking and switching to a cool water flavored with a mild mint. “Can I be blunt?” she asked, her violet eyes lifting to Quinn's face, meeting his dark blue eyes earnestly and waiting until he nodded. “Surely you see what is in front of you, at this point. I love Theron. I will not abandon him, not even for the memory of the love that we shared. And though we may appear very volatile to others, Arcann and I share something together that I have no wish to lose. What is it that you expect, Malavai? What do you want to happen? Because I'm not going to lie to you and lead you to believe that I feel shallowly for either of them, when the truth is that they are an intrinsic part of my life.”

Quinn stared at her for a moment, and then he pulled his gaze away reluctantly, trying to focus on what to say in answer. She was so temptingly close, and for a moment, all he could think was that he could understand why she preferred to just do what felt right at the moment and damn the future. Because it would be so much more pleasurable to kiss her, and ignore reality and her relationship with Theron and Arcann. “That was.. certainly blunt.” He cast about in his mind, his ordered, perfectly organized mind, searching for the right thing to say. But he could smell the intoxicatingly sweet scent of the oil on her skin, and feel her beautiful eyes on him, and couldn't help but worry about what would happen if he said the wrong thing and lost his opportunity? 

Selirah set her plate aside, taking his as well and laying it on the table next to hers. “Too much? You know I'm not good at being subtle.”

“I do know that. I know -you-. And you know me. But what I don't know is what I want to happen, Selirah. I didn't expect this, and it's a minefield, and I'm afraid to set a foot wrong and blow myself up for my trouble, when I only want a chance to find out if we could still be as incredible together now as we were before.” He took a chance and lifted his head to look at her. Her expression was difficult to categorize, but she looked startled, and not angry or sad, and Quinn had to take that as a positive. The alternative was too depressing to consider. “You could have severed our marriage. You could have ended everything between us, and made quite certain that there was no ambiguity if you saw me again. It's not what you chose to do, however. So if I may also be blunt, that choice makes it seem that you still have feelings for me, despite your love for Arcann and Theron.”

She rose, and walked away from him, her bare feet sinking into the rug that covered most of the floor space and her bound lekku swinging together down her back to her hips. “Of course I do, Malavai. It would be pointless for me to pretend otherwise. I think that I will probably care about you until the day I die, and then go on doing it even afterwards.” Quinn began to get up as well, to go to her. But she held up a hand in an unmistakable warning, and he sank back down, feeling his heart sink at the same time. “My feelings do not change the realities of the situation. I let myself get carried away in my passion for Arcann, and I hurt Theron badly in the process. The desire that I feel for you would be just as easy to indulge, and far more harmful. With the death of his father, Theron is struggling, and the worst possible thing I could do is damage our relationship.” 

“I understand that, and I respect it.” He hesitated, trying to find some way to get around what she'd said. Preferably a way that wasn't extremely selfish. Unhappily, no such idea presented itself to him.

“Theron has never given me a moment's real pain since the day we first met. He has been supportive, and loving, and understanding even when I am sure it was far more desirable to shoot me. He deserves better than to be hurt, especially now, when he needs love the most. Malavai..” Selirah ceased her pacing, coming back to Quinn and sitting back down beside him, “I'm sorry. I know that it isn't what you wanted to hear. I didn't even know that it was what I was going to say. I wanted this evening to go a very different way, but perhaps you're a good influence on my behavior. You wanted me to take responsibility, and to stop hiding from it.”

Quinn sighed expressively. “I am rather regretting that conversation at this moment. And I wish I had simply swept you into my arms when I saw you arrive in the Alliance base, and kissed you then.”

Selirah gave him a look from beneath her dark lashes, barely visible against the black tattoos that encircled her eyes. “I admit that your reserve that day made me take a step back and evaluate things differently. It just wasn't quite what I expected, for you to be so formal, after so long. But Malavai, it wouldn't have changed the fact that things are different, and that my life is complicated. I have always done what I wanted, and you were right to tell me that it was selfish to just expect other people to work around my desires.” 

“Are you telling me that there's no chance? That I should just abandon my hopes and accept that our relationship is over?” Quinn's hands twisted together, and his jaw tightened. The evening was not at all in his control at this point, and while it wasn't as if he was unused to Sith making hash of his plans –Selirah in particular – he couldn't even figure out when it had spiraled out of his reach. Panic swelled in his thoughts, and his stomach felt like a huge knot. “I can't accept that. I won't accept that, Selirah. You're my wife, and you chose to stay married to me, and I know you love me. I'm not going to just passively step back and watch you go. Not this time. I let you leave me before, and I have regretted it for every single moment since that day. It's not going to happen again.” He was a little ashamed of the quiver in his voice when he started out speaking, but by the end, Quinn had managed to regain control of his voice, and suppressed that nauseating feeling that everything was slipping out of his fingers. She was right. He'd been timid. Willing to wait and hope she'd come to him, or that things would work out. Theron had pursued her as much as she had pursued him, and Arcann didn't seem like the sort to simply wait and hope. He couldn't afford to be passive about this, if he wanted Selirah to see him as part of her life again. 

And he definitely wanted that. 

Selirah was looking at him with a startled expression, her lavender eyes wide. It was evident to him that she'd also expected him to simply fold, to let her walk away again like he had done before. “I .. you can't just.. “ she stammered, and he had a moment's satisfaction to realize that she could be as flustered as he'd so frequently felt around her. That her self-possession wasn't unassailable. She could be confused, too, and not know what was the correct answer to give. He'd always felt that way because of how much he loved her, how devoted he felt to her, his fear of ruining the best thing that had happened to him. And he'd done exactly that, ruined it. This was a second chance, and he wasn't going to let it get away. “That's not only your choice to make, and you can't just.. decide that.”

“I can, and I will. I love you. I'll keep telling you that until you stop trying to push me away. Help Theron, support him. But don't hide from your feelings. Your own code warns against it,” Quinn told her firmly, and she laughed, a surprised, quick sound. 

“Yes, it does. I don't know what to say, Malavai. I can't make any promises to you, not now. I have a lot of problems looming ahead, and I don't know where all of this even fits in that, or if it does at all.” She held up a hand as Quinn started to object, cutting him off before he could speak. “No, don't tell me that it has to fit. I have heard you, and I understand how you feel. But I'm not going to do anything that would hurt Theron or Arcann, and I hope that you'll listen to me when I say that, and respect it. I've let passion guide me for my whole life, and it leads me into trouble more often than not. I can control this side of me, and I'm going to control it.”

Frustration written in every rigid line of his body, Quinn got to his feet, his hands curved into fists at his side, the knuckles whitened by strain. “They shouldn't want you to control your passion, or be someone that you're not. Selirah, please don't turn your back on this. On us. I know you love me as much as I love you. What good will it do to pretend otherwise?” He went to her, bending and taking her hand, pulling her gently to her feet. She allowed him to do it, to bring her closer to him, feeling the longing that was pouring off him in waves, and the desire that she felt, and he could see her feelings in her eyes when she looked at him, even without the ability to use the force to sense them the way she could with him. “Tell me that you love me. I know that you do.”

She looked up at him, her lips parted slightly, and he pulled her closer still, one hand finding the sleek curve of the small of her back, pressing her body against his. Everything that was in her screamed to yield to the passion that she felt, to take everything he was offering, to reach out for that happiness that she'd had once, so long ago that it felt like another life entirely. The Sith in her wanted to take what belonged to her, and keep it, and fight anyone who tried to take it away, but she wasn't only Sith and she couldn't justify indulging herself just because she still felt something for her husband. “I love you, Malavai,” she said slowly, the words barely audible. “I love you. But that's not the only thing that matters.” 

“Yes, it is. It can be.” His hand slid beneath her lekku, thumb brushing against the underside of the sensitive curves, and he watched a shiver of pleasure go through her with a feeling of deep satisfaction. “Don't push me away. We belong together, and you know that it's true.” Quinn could feel her hand touch his chest, sliding higher, then lifting to touch his cheek. Her fingers curved against his jaw, and her pupils dilated, the purple iris shrinking to a narrow band as her desire responded to his touch, and his body against hers. Somewhere deep down, Quinn knew it was wrong to push, to use the emotions and the memories that they shared to keep his foot in the door. But he couldn't face the reality of a life empty of her. Not now, and maybe not ever. He meant what he'd said; they belonged together. He knew that, and he knew she would admit it too, if he could just get closer to her for a moment with nothing else in the way. His hand stroked over her bound lekku, and he could feel them move slightly under his fingers, her expression softening in response to the caress. 

“I can't do this.” Her free hand locked into the stiff fabric of his uniform, and she knew that she had to let go, step back. She needed distance from him. Closing her eyes didn't help.. it only made her think of kissing him, and opening them was almost worse, because he hadn't had the good manners to get less attractive in their time apart. Instead, the grey hair interspersed with the coal-black strands and the faint lines at the corners of his richly blue eyes only made her desire for him all the more intense. “Quinn..”

“Malavai,” he corrected her, his voice rough, unyielding. “I have wanted to, and should have kissed you at least ten different times since I saw you come into the mission room here on Iokath, Selirah. Let me kiss you now, and I swear to you that I'll leave. I'll be patient. I am not willing to stop trying, and I won't stop working to find my way back to you. But I'll wait. I've waited this long. I can wait longer if I must.” 

Indecision warred against indulgence, and then it beat itself to death against passion and love. Selirah closed her shields tightly around herself, thinning her bond with Arcann to the merest trickle, giving herself this moment of privacy. She could feel Quinn's lean, strong body against hers, and the feel of his uniform jacket against her hand. Her other hand curved around the nape of his neck, and leaning up on her tiptoes, she pulled him down to meet her halfway. The surrender was easier than she'd thought it would be, giving in to the firm touch of his lips against hers. Quinn's arms went around her, and he pulled her against him hard, holding her as tightly as if he would never let her go again now that he had her. His kiss was demanding, passionate, devouring, and Selirah closed her eyes, letting herself forget everything else. 

Years of time spent apart fell away like it'd never happened, and the ever present pain of his one-time betrayal dissipated like smoke for both of them. Quinn knew, holding her in his arms, that he couldn't let what was between them crumble or fade away. And Selirah knew, tasting his mouth against hers, that it was going to be incredibly hard not to do this again. Or quite a lot more than just this. How much of it was memory, and how much of it was really a need to reignite a formerly troubled relationship, though? It was impossible to separate them, she realized, and it was just as difficult to make herself physically pull away from him now, when she could feel that hidden, volcanic emotional well that Quinn hid so protectively inside himself. She wanted to feel that towering, secret passion of his again, see what he was like when he dropped all of his careful masks and let her see who he really was, deep inside. She'd always loved that side of him, and that she was the only one who had ever been allowed there. 

It was Quinn who let her go, although it felt like the kiss had lasted for hours before he finally did. He broke the kiss, his gaze replete with satisfaction as he stepped back, putting enough distance between the two of them to let her gather her defenses again and regain her intent to stay away from him. “If that is the last time I ever touch you like this, at least I will know that you feel the same way that I do,” he said quietly, eyes dropping deliberately to her kiss-swollen lips. “Thank you for your company tonight, Selirah. I enjoyed the chance to talk with you.” 

“I enjoyed it, too. I wanted to spend some time with you, and I still do. But for a while, I need a little distance, and I think it would help you as well if we weren't in each other's space constantly.” She walked Quinn to the door, stopping in the doorway. Kass and Pierce waited outside, both of them standing at relaxed attention, though Selirah was fairly certain that just before the door had opened, she'd heard them laughing and something that sounded distinctly like dice being tossed. “Goodnight, Malavai.” 

Once Quinn had taken his leave, she invited Kasseri and Pierce both inside, and sat with them while they joked and demolished most of the food. An hour into the impromptu meal, Pierce looked over and saw that Selirah was asleep, her head pillowed on the back of the couch. The door slid open a moment or two later, and Arcann entered, his armor smelling of smoke and bearing a few score marks. “I was just going to pick up my things,” he explained, glancing at the sleeping Twi'lek sprawled on the couch. 

“We were just leaving, actually. You wouldn't mind putting her in bed, eh? She's got the temperament of a wounded rancor when she doesn't get a good, comfortable night's sleep, and there's none of us would enjoy dealing with that, not even you.” Pierce smiled blandly at the prince's suspicious frown, and then stood up, scooping up a few of the trays with food still left on them. Kass availed herself of the others, and they trooped out the door together, leaving Arcann behind as the door slid closed. 

Leaving her there for the time being, Arcann went to the bed and pulled the cover and sheet back. Unfastening his armor, he peeled it off and laid it over a chair, then found one of Theron's shirts in her gear locker. Carrying the shirt in one hand, he went back to her and dressed her limp, sleeping form, unwinding the strips that bound her lekku back so that she wouldn't hurt herself with them while she was asleep. Picking her up carefully with both arms, he hefted her easily, feeling her head loll against his shoulder. He could smell alcohol on her breath, and the faint sweetness of mint mingling with it as he carried her over to the bed, laying her down gently. 

Pulling the covers up over her, he turned to get up, thinking he would just take his things and go to the barracks again for the night, when a hand took his cybernetic arm, her fingers lacing with his. “You came back,” she said sleepily, sounding only half-awake at best. 

“I was going to get my things,” Arcann tried to explain, but her hand tightened on his, and while it wasn't going to hurt him, he didn't want her to hurt herself either. He stopped trying to extract his hand, feeling her grip relax in response. “I'll sleep in the barracks, Seli.”

“Don't go.” He could see her eyes open, barely, the purple gleam of her irises showing under the edge of her lashes. “Stay. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you the truth, keella. I didn't want to hurt you.” Selirah struggled against the tug of sleep, forcing her eyes to open a bit more, her gaze focusing on his face, the familiar scars, seeing the wary look of mistrust in his light blue eyes. “Please stay.”

Arcann glanced over at his bag, sitting against the wall near the couch, then back at her, and at her hand in his. “It's not a good idea, Seli,” he said slowly. “I know you meant to avoid hurting me, but all you did was make it so much worse when I heard it from someone else, from -him-, instead of you. I'm so angry with you. It's just too soon.” When he pulled his hand away this time, she let go, but he felt her shields falter, a sliver of grief and loneliness reaching him before she hid it again, closing their bond to the merest trickle of sensation.

Selirah nodded, acknowledging his words, her eyes drifting closed again as she turned over onto her side, pulling the covers up and leaving him facing her back. “I understand. Take whatever time you need.” 

Arcann didn't need their bond to know that she was lying about understanding why he'd refused, because she wasn't trying very hard to hide it from him, but he got up and picked up his bag and his armor. There was nothing to be done about it tonight, and he just wanted to sleep after the night's long patrol. She was going to have to be patient for once, he told himself as he turned out the lights and walked out, the door sliding closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. I blame the wine. 
> 
> Mando'a notes:
> 
> Riduur - partner, spouse, husband/wife  
> Vod - brother, sister, comrade


	72. Unconditionally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Alyxia are laying out the welcome mat for the Republic forces on Iokath.
> 
> Selirah and Arcann are not talking.
> 
> Selirah and Quinn are mostly not talking, though for less negative reasons.
> 
> Theron comes back to Iokath, and he and Selirah are talking.
> 
> A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Not really, again, but.. still on Iokath. Even though I wish we were on Odessen. I like it better. Nicer scenery.
> 
> This got really long, and there's a lot of talking. So. Much. Talking.

**Odessen:**

_I had a son, once._

_You'd choose this tyrant over me? Over the Republic?_

_The blaster fired, and Selirah's body jerked as the bolt struck her, tearing through armor and flesh and flinging her to the ground. Her arms and legs sprawled gracelessly, and the woman he'd built his world around lay still, a burned smoking hole in her body._

_Theron heard himself shout her name, but the violet eyes had dimmed, and he knew she would never answer him again._

Jerking awake in his bed, Theron sat up, his throat so sore that he knew he'd actually been yelling, not just dreaming about it. Night after night, the images of his father's death tortured his sleep, and being alone wasn't helping at all. The worst ones were the ones where Malcom shot Selirah, or Theron himself. And all of them concluded, if he didn't wake up in the middle of them, with his father's death. 

Satele had sent him messages, but he hadn't answered any of them yet. He had no idea what to say to his mother, and so much anger towards her that it felt useless to even try to respond. Her choices had created the depth of dysfunction in his family, and kept him from knowing his father until it was far too late for them to form anything other than a weak, incomplete bond of affection with each other. Theron didn't even know if she'd loved Malcom, and it seemed patently absurd to imagine the icy calm Jedi allowing herself to have an emotion for anyone, much less a career soldier. All he could think was that it had been the same kind of battle lust that Selirah often displayed – or at least, a much more pale and bloodless version of it.

His holo chimed, and he picked it up off the bedside table, rubbing one hand through his hair unhelpfully in an attempt to not look quite so rumpled. Selirah's image came into view, crouched down as if she were behind something. “Theron, did I wake you?” she asked, her voice sounding distant and slightly crackly. 

“No, I was awake. I'm so glad you called. This bed is -really- hard to warm up when you're alone in it,” he replied, relief filling him at the sight and sound of her. 

“I feel the same way about the bed here.”

“You have Arcann there with you! You can send him back to me if you're too busy, though. Wait, is he there? Don't tell him I said that. Or, you know, do tell him. Whichever option seems more likely to end well.”

She glanced to the side, as if at someone else nearby, and there was a very loud noise, like a missile blast. She covered her head for a moment, then looked back at the holo. “I -am- rather busy. It's mostly just that our schedules don't always connect, of course.. that's what I meant. Don't worry, love. I won't tell him that you're thinking of getting into his pants.” There was a bark of laughter from off-screen, but it sounded like another woman. Theron wasn't sure if it was a relief or not that someone else was listening in on their call, given the sounds of combat that he kept hearing. 

“Are you fighting right now, Selirah? And holoing me? Please tell me that you're not.”

“Not presently. Alyxia said I was making it very boring for her, so I'm letting her stretch her legs a bit while I talk to you,” Selirah responded with a lopsided smile. “Don't worry, I'm safe enough. And I missed you. When can you come back?”

“Soon, I hope. Lana and I have been narrowing down possibilities, and you know how she is, efficiency personified. I could probably swing a visit back soon, at least to update you on our progress in person, if nothing else. I've missed you too, you know. I really do hate sleeping alone. And the bed is so much warmer with your body in it.” He smiled, shaking his head in amusement. “I can't believe you're holoing me while you're in the field.”

“I hate having you so far away from me, love. Tell Lana to send you back to me. That's an order. I'd really like to see you, Theron.” For a moment, she looked so sad that it tugged at Theron's heart, and he opened his mouth to ask what was going on, when there was another explosion, this one far closer. Selirah dropped the holo with a clatter, then snatched it back up hastily. “I'm fine,” she reassured Theron, then bellowed, “Alyxia! Can you NOT use the kriffing explosive missiles that close to me? I'm on a call!”

“Theron, tell her to be useful!” Alyxia's voice came clearly to him, and Selirah made a rude noise and an even ruder gesture to the other woman before she turned back to him. 

“Ignore her, she's lazy. I do mean it, though, Theron. If she can spare you... tell Lana you're coming to Iokath and get here as soon as you can. I have to go, before she leads a walker onto my head. I love you!”

“I love you too, Seli. See you soon,” Theron managed to squeeze in before the line went dead. Checking his chrono, he saw that it was still too early to even expect Lana to be awake. But with the thought of seeing Seli and Arcann in his thoughts, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get back to sleep. 

Morning, or more specifically the crack of dawn that Lana liked to think of as morning, couldn't come soon enough.

**Iokath, Republic zone:**

Launching herself from behind the massive storage crate with a force-imbued leap, Selirah had cut down two soldiers before the squadron even realized a Sith had landed into the midst of their formation. One heavily armored trooper swung a heavy cannon towards her, but the warrior was gone before the first bolts had left the massive weapon, her movement nearly a blur. He tried to adjust his aim, but almost gunned down his own squad mates in the process, making them hit the ground. A fine spray of some kind of liquid rained down on the ducking soldiers, and then a burst of flame shot from the portable flamethrower on Alyxia's armor kit. The soldiers ignited instantly, and the flame was so incredibly hot that the trooper with the cannon was forced to back away, losing track of Selirah in the process. 

Something made a clunking noise against the back of his armor, and he reached a hand back, feeling a cylinder pressed against him. The distinctive sound of a lightsaber igniting happened right as the purple blade appeared in front of him, and it took him a moment to realize that she had run it through his body from behind. And by then, it was too late. Bracing a booted foot on the soldier's back, Selirah shoved firmly, toppling his dying body forward onto the ground. Stepping over him, she glanced at the other soldiers, the two that Alyxia had immolated still burning but probably dead, before moving deeper into the base. 

A walker rounded the corner, and the driver caught sight of them from the cockpit. Blaster fire ripped across the ground, and Selirah flung herself to the side, rolling behind a barricade. Activating her rocket pack, Alyxia lifted off the ground, firing a rocket into the cockpit. It lodged firmly there next to the horrified looking operator, but the bounty hunter was already moving under the walker, spraying a sealant at the cockpit hatch, and then turning and engaging with the war droids that had joined the fight. Selirah cut the legs out from under one, stabbing it with an overhead thrust, then her boot connected with the droid's midsection, knocking it flying backwards. 

“Boss?” Alyxia called, her blasters punctuating the question with rapid fire shots that hammered the second droid, rocking it back on its hind support. It fired back, and the Mandalorian spun sideways, presenting a smaller target but taking a hit in the shoulder that staggered her in the process. “Think you could have Torian get a ride with Theron?” The walker operator was trying to squeeze out of the 'eye' openings of the cockpit, struggling and kicking his legs, and she tapped a series of buttons on the interface panel on her arm. The rocket beeped loudly as it armed, and the operator redoubled his efforts to force himself out of the too-small opening. 

“I..” Selirah paused as the armed rocket shell exploded, blasting apart the walker into shrapnel. She shielded herself, a little late, taking a piece of twisted metal across her upper arm that was going to leave a nasty bruise, but the majority of the damage shredded what remained of the two war droids and a pair of unlucky soldiers who had seen the fight and run to provide support. “I can, certainly. We could use him against that droid.” Alyxia, who had prudently found a low barricade to shelter behind before she'd set the shell to explode, came over to join her, and her blaster fired twice in rapid succession, one shot for each soldier, silencing the screams instantly.

“True. I'll let him know. We done here?” 

“Yes. They'll be cleaning up for a while and not pressing our soldiers. Let's go find bunks at the Imperial camp for the night. We'll head back tomorrow.” 

**Alliance Base (Next Day):**

The atmosphere in the base had been tense for days, and not only because of the approaching attempt against Tyth, or the concerns about the traitor in their midst. Selirah spent almost all of her time with the Mandalorians, and with Pierce, out in the Iokath expanse or driving back the Republic forces. She came back to the base to eat, sleep, and re-gear to head back out. Some nights, she didn't come back at all – as she hadn't last night, or the night before that – instead choosing to bunk at the Imperial base and launch her missions directly from there. 

Selirah came through the courtyard, her armor bearing some new scrapes and scoremarks. Alyxia was holding her left arm stiffly, and the two of them headed into the main building. The Mandalorian headed towards the medical bay, and Selirah disappeared down the hall towards her room. Arcann hadn't seen her since that night in her quarters, other than in passing, and it was starting to eat at him that she had not tried to speak to him at all. He could feel her presence, but only lightly, and he knew that was deliberate as well. The tension between them was palpable, and the Alliance forces were treading lightly around both of them, as if expecting some kind of explosive fight to happen. But Selirah had simply continued to keep to herself, and Arcann had started to think that he'd made an error that night by walking away. 

“Hey, we're going to go fleece the Imps out of some credits. Want to come along?” Kasseri's voice came from behind Arcann, but when he turned around, he only saw her booted feet dangling off the wing of one of the small shuttles. Tilting his head upwards, he looked into her amused, pale-skinned face, her grey eyes alight with her usual constant appearance of good cheer. “Come with, it'll be fun. Pierce is coming.”

“Is Alyxia coming along?” he asked curiously, glancing towards the med bay door. But the red-haired Mandalorian hadn't appeared yet, likely still being treated for her injuries. Selirah hadn't gone with her, so he had to assume that she hadn't been wounded, or at least not seriously enough that she felt it warranted any care. To her credit, Arcann had to admit that she'd stayed away from Quinn, too. It was obvious that she was waiting for Theron to arrive, so she could talk to him. It was.. a surprising change, and one that he wasn't sure how to interpret. She'd never showed much interest or concern in how her actions reflected or felt to other people, even the ones she cared about. This cautious approach was new, and atypical of the volatile warrior. 

“I don't think so. She got dinged while they were at the Republic base yesterday. Probably spend the evening nagging Major Regulations to be cleared for the next mission. She doesn't like to be left out of an opportunity to blow something up,” Kass confided, heavily booted feet swinging idly off the shuttle wing. “Come on, let's go have some fun. Even you can't always be serious, eh?” 

He rolled his eyes at the Rattataki, and she laughed, pushing off the edge of the wing and jumping down to the ground. “I'm not always serious,” he protested, and shrugged in answer. “Isn't it going to ruin the fun if I'm there? They're not likely to enjoy my company.”

Kass snorted. “That's the point. They'll be distracted and we'll win more money. Even split, everybody gets paid, Team Alliance! Everybody needs some cash to throw around, Arcann.” She slapped him on the back companionably, heading towards the tram where Pierce was waiting. Hesitating a moment, Arcann gave one last look towards the hall that Selirah had disappeared into, but she was nowhere to be seen. Then he followed Kass, joining her and Pierce for the tram ride to the Imperial base. 

Selirah removed her armor, moving gingerly now that she was in the privacy of her own chamber and there were no eyes to see. The bruises underneath hurt, but she hadn't taken any direct hits the way Alyxia had, so it'd seemed like asking for trouble to go to the medical bay and risk letting Quinn put his hands on her. She'd kept her promise to herself to keep things above board, and only had to wait until Theron arrived, and she'd had a chance to speak with him and tell him the truth about Quinn. She'd figure out what to do once she knew his reaction, and the bruises and scrapes would heal. But she was sore, and tired. A little time in the 'fresher made her feel a lot more clean, at least. Emerging with a towel loosely draped around her body, she heard a low, admiring whistle.

“My timing couldn't be better, I see,” Theron said, standing in front of the door with his pack slung over one shoulder, taking in the view. He smiled, and Selirah could see that Lana had been right; charming smile aside, the agent looked exhausted and worn out, his eyes showing signs of sleeplessness. He slung the pack over onto the floor by the couch and came to her, lifting her by the waist and kissing her. Selirah wrapped her arms around his shoulders, a pervasive sense of relief and happiness relaxing the tension she'd been living with ever since he'd left. “Where's Arcann?” he asked when they came up for air, punctuating the question with a gentle nip of her lower lip. 

“Out. With Kass and Pierce. I asked her to take him.. I wanted a little time with you.” Selirah slid her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. His hair was a little longer than usual, she noticed, stroking the strands lightly. “Sit down, Theron. I'll get dressed, if you'll let me,” she added when she felt his arms tighten reflexively around her. 

“I like what you're wearing right now,” he objected teasingly, but he set her back on her feet and sank down on the couch with a sigh, propping his booted feet up on the table. Leaning back against the cushions, he watched with open interest as she pulled on some shorts and a soft tank top, rolling the fabric down over her stomach. 

Settling onto the couch beside him, Selirah tucked her bare legs under herself, propping her elbow up on the back of the couch, her cheek resting against her fist. “I know you're not sleeping well. You look exhausted, love. We're worried about you, and I wanted you back here. I shouldn't have pulled you from the investigation, I know. But you don't seem to be doing well, Theron.”

“Some days I'm better than others, but.. you're right. I have the worst nightmares. I keep seeing Malcom die, and sometimes he kills you first, or me, or both of us. It's horrible, and waking up three times a night isn't doing me very much good, I admit. I barely knew him. I don't know why this is hitting me so hard.”

Selirah reached out and took one of his hands, her thumb stroking his palm in a slow, hypnotic motion. “Because he was your father, Theron, and I imagine it hurts knowing that you won't have the chance to know him better than you did. I wish you didn't feel guilty, though. None of it was your fault.”

“Some of it was. Once I knew who he was, I could have tried harder to spend time with him, and to get to know who he was. At least, beyond being Supreme Commander, which it seems was the only important thing to him. I guess that's part of it to me, that he was ready to kill me in that room, or at least willing to do something that -could- have killed me.” Theron frowned, his eyes dropping, glancing away from her. His voice was calm, but she could feel his anger and hurt as he added, “I always knew how Satele was, and what she thought about having a son, but I thought that Malcom was different. I thought he was sorry that we didn't have a better relationship.”

“I can't pretend to understand Satele's choices, and I'm not going to try to, but.. I do think Malcom was sorry that he didn't know you better than he did. He didn't understand you, and it seems like he was really sad about that, at least at the end. Holding back your feelings and hiding from emotions is always a bad idea, if only because life is uncertain, and you may regret forever not having a chance to tell someone what you feel for them.”

Theron squeezed her hand gently, smiling at her. “That's true, and speaking of people that you have feelings for... did you send Arcann away because he was driving you crazy, or are you two fighting? I am a little surprised you wouldn't have wanted him here, or that you seemed to be spending time apart lately.” 

Selirah's jaw tightened, and she glanced away. “Arcann's been sleeping in the barracks,” she said baldly, “and I want to talk to you, so... I did tell Kass to take him, but she was also told to make it look like it was her idea. I wanted you to talk to me first, without him airing his grievances to you.”

“Hold on a second, Seli,” Theron blinked at her, his hazel eyes bewildered as he worked through this sudden assault of information and change of subject, his tone cautious. “Am I mediating in an argument? Because I'd rather have both of you here, if that's the case. I don't think it'd be fair of me to just hear your side without hearing his too and letting him be here to defend himself.”

“No, not exactly. When Arcann arrived on Iokath, he realized who Quinn was fairly quickly. He told me he knew I was hiding something about him, protecting him. He wanted to know why, and what it was, but I..” Selirah sighed, her hand slipping fully into Theron's, fingers twining together. “I didn't want to hurt him. I thought we would talk about it later. But he decided to go to Quinn instead, and get the information from him.”

“Which information? What were you hiding?” Theron's face stilled, and he looked into her eyes, holding her gaze. “Selirah, you didn't.. not again.” His eyes moved past her towards the bed, as if he was certain there'd be some evidence of Quinn to be found there.

“I didn't sleep with Quinn, Theron. That's not what this is about. It is about our past, though, before you. I never.. I didn't..” She withdrew her hand from his slowly, shifting her position so that she was sitting facing into the room, her back pressed against the couch. Her lekku moved uneasily, and one wrapped around her neck lightly, the end draping over her shoulder and twitching like a nervous cat's tail. “You know I'm bad at telling people things, especially if I think they won't like it. It's easier to not tell them.. either they'll find out the truth, and deal with it then, or they won't, and then it's not an issue. I met you, after things had gone so badly with Quinn, and you were so different. It was so easy to understand you, Theron. You said what you felt, and you liked what we had. I was happy with it too. I -am- happy with it,” she added hastily, shooting him a sidelong glance, though she still didn't turn to face him. 

“If you didn't sleep with Quinn, and it's about the past, why is it so upsetting to him that he'd sleep in the barracks?” Theron watched her profile, and he could see the emotions written on her face, even from the side. She was right.. telling unpleasant things was not her strong point. As much as Sith loved to embrace strong emotions, they certainly preferred to ignore or dodge things like guilt, or shame, or gratitude. But he could see her struggling with something that was hard for her, and he knew she was feeling something that she didn't want to feel. It was not a positive sign that it'd been bad enough to upset Arcann, either. The prince was moody sometimes, and volatile, but his feelings for Selirah had always been too strong for him to do more than shout at her and then end up in bed with her, both of them taking their anger out on each other through their mutual passion. He'd never stayed away from her like this.

Selirah put her hands in her lap, folding her fingers together, lacing them tightly. “As I said, we were happy with the way our relationship worked, you and I. And you didn't seem inclined to want more, so I suppose I became a little complacent about how things had ended with Quinn and I. But some time ago, Arcann... you know he is different, and he wanted something more. He asked me if I would marry him. I told him that it wasn't the time to talk about anything like that, because it wasn't. There was never time. We live our lives from one catastrophe to the next, and it never felt like the right time to bring it up, to you or just to talk about it at all.” She avoided mentioning his time with Darth Cynera as part of the reason they'd put off talking about it. It was true enough, he'd asked her and then Theron had been taken, and his recovery after his time with the insane Sith had made it even harder to consider having the conversation. But talking about Cynera had the risk of making him think about the events of his kidnapping, and possibly damaging the memory rub that Nox had performed on him. 

Theron leaned his side against the back of the couch, bringing one knee up, booted foot resting on the seat of the couch. He wrapped his arms around his bent leg, resting his chin on his knee. “Neither of you told me. Were you considering it? Are you? Is Arcann angry because Quinn was married to you and you won't answer him about his proposal?” He wasn't sure why he kept asking questions, but it kept him from examining the confusion that he felt about his own feelings, Theron supposed. He couldn't really say anything about her assumption that he wouldn't have wanted more. Look at how long it had taken him to say that he loved her. And his terrible track record with relationships. There was no doubt in Theron's mind that he probably looked like the galaxy's biggest flight risk, when it came to any kind of permanent relationship or formal arrangement. “Did you really think I would never want to marry you?”

Chewing her bottom lip as she considered how to continue, Selirah paused at his final question, hearing something in his voice that pulled her out of her own feelings. “I didn't know, love. I never questioned that you loved me. But I suppose it just didn't seem like something you were looking for, with me anyway. I suppose it could have been different, maybe with someone who wasn't... me,” she answered, a little lamely, ducking her head, still not looking at him. “I wasn't afraid you would leave me, so it didn't really matter to me until Arcann asked me. Then I just worried that you would be upset, if you knew he'd asked, or feel like you had to do the same. And you don't. The truth is, I was probably never a very good wife to Malavai. He loved me anyway, but I know that I was not very mindful of his needs. Only mine. And I think we both know that hasn't changed very much since.”

“That's not true, Seli. You are who you are, and I love you the way you are, but you are a lot different now than you were when we first met. You've changed, on your own, and through your own decisions. I don't always agree with how you handle things, and I'm sure you feel the same way about me, but I'd never pretend that you don't dedicate a lot of time to my needs, and to listening to me.” 

“I'm glad you feel that way, love. I do try, though I admit that it's hard sometimes for me to suppress that side of me that tells me I should be able to do anything I want and damn the consequences. At any rate.. I'm letting myself get sidetracked, and I promised myself that I wouldn't do that. I don't know how long Kass will be able to keep him away, and I want to be the one who tells you.”

“You keep mentioning something that you need to tell me, but it feels like you don't want to circle around to it. What did Quinn say to Arcann?” Theron asked, watching the stiff, uncomfortable body language that she was showing since she still hadn't looked directly at him. He knew this was difficult for her – it was much more her way to keep things to herself unless she was caught. Knowing that, and understanding that she was trying to be open with him, was the only thing keeping his voice calm. She probably would have dodged this conversation too, he realized, if she could have. But she knew that with Arcann and Quinn here, someone was bound to tell him and she'd wanted to get out ahead of that happening. “Just spit it out so it's done, Seli.”

Selirah nodded in acknowledgment, and she shifted slightly on the couch so that she was almost facing him, or at least making eye contact. Her violet eyes were wary, watching his face, likely trying to assess if he was angry with her. “Quinn told Arcann that I am still his wife. That I never divorced him, just left him.” She waited for a long moment, but Theron just watched her, his expression studiously blank, giving her nothing to respond to, no hint of his feelings. “It is true. I didn't divorce him. It just didn't feel important to do it, with everything else that had happened, and then I spent five years in carbonite, and the Empire was crumbling, and my crew were gone, possibly dead. Nothing else seemed important then, until you and I were together again on Odessen. And things were so good between us, Theron. I didn't think it mattered. If you'd seemed like that was something you would want someday, maybe I would have felt like it was more urgent than I did. Who can say? Arcann was so angry. He was furious that I had kept it from him, that I'd let him think other things were in the way. He choked Quinn, and we fought, and he left. We haven't spoken, other than a few nights ago, when he picked up his things and then left again. Theron..” Selirah licked her lower lip, wetting it nervously. “I'm not sure what to do.”

She watched Theron uncertainly, letting the silence stretch out while he thought about what she'd said. He never liked to just react to things when he could take the time to consider them, and while it was a trait that she appreciated about him, because it made him more cool-headed than either she or Arcann habitually were, it still felt frustrating when she'd said something big and he just looked at her and said nothing. Turning more towards him so that they were facing each other directly, Selirah tried to simply be patient, but as the minutes dragged on, she started to fidget, picking at the raw edge of her shorts, and casting careful looks at the silent Theron, until abruptly, he spoke up again.

“I know that you understand why Arcann is so angry with you, Seli. It's so easy to upset his view of how things are, and how they should be. He doesn't like for you to change the playing field without warning, and you pretty much pulled a rug out from under him. Worse, you let Quinn do it, instead of telling him yourself. It was insulting to him, to hear it that way, when you should have been honest with him. How do you think that felt to him? To have a rival for your affections rip the possibility of marriage from his hands without warning?” 

“I never meant for him to learn it from Quinn,” she began, protestingly, but then she nodded, dropping her eyes to her hands. “You are right, Theron. I didn't tell him, and I left him to be ambushed by the news. And I put Quinn in danger by doing so. If I hadn't gotten there when I did, it would have been much worse than it was.”

Theron saw the regret in her face, the knowledge of the pain that she had caused, and he reached out to her, taking her hands in his. “You can't keep hiding things, Selirah. Not from either of us. I don't know what you think is going to happen if you let us in, but we are not Sith, and we're not going to betray you, either. We won't use your secrets against you.” She slid across the couch and leaned against his side as Theron wrapped his arm around her shoulders, under her lekku. His free hand stayed in hers, and she held it with both hands. “You have to figure out what you're going to do about Quinn, too.”

“Quinn told me the same thing, about hiding things. He said I needed to stop ducking away from being honest to the people who matter to me,” Selirah admitted softly, leaning her head against Theron's shoulder. “I don't need to do anything about Quinn, Theron. I could station him somewhere else. Appoint him our ambassador to the Sith Empire. I'm not going to expect you to adjust to this. I never really expected to even see him again.. I just assumed, when we didn't find him, that he might have been killed in the attacks, or in the intervening time. I didn't realize he was in jail.”

Theron smiled, a wistful look in his hazel eyes as he looked down at her crimson hands, wrapped around his hand. “Seli, I love what we have together, and the person that you are. I love you for who you are, not for who I think that you should be, or who I am. I know that you're not like me, and even less like Arcann – he would be perfectly content with you for the rest of his life, and while I know he likes me, I don't think that he will ever love me the way he loves you.” He settled more comfortably, his back against the couch, and propped his feet back up on the table. She laid her bare feet on his shins, crossing them at the ankle. “Quinn is your husband. You're going to have to figure out what you want to do, because this is about you and him as much as it's about us.”

“I've stayed away from him, Theron. I can keep staying away. I can just tell him there's nothing between us.”

“Is that true?” Theron asked calmly, glancing down at her. She didn't look up to meet his eyes, but he hadn't really expected her to want to do it, not while being faced with a difficult topic. 

“Theron..” She frowned, and her hands briefly tightened on his before gentling, one hand stroking the back of his arm in slow, idle caresses. “No, it's not true. But I left him before, and I would have stayed apart from him, too. You have been so much to me. I know there's nothing that I've done in my life that made me deserve you, Theron. I can't pretend to be a good person, and I don't want to, either. But somehow, you love me. I'll never understand it, but I will do anything to make you happy.”

“I know who you are, Seli. And I know that the circumstances that made you are completely different from anything I can ever understand. I don't have to agree with everything that you do, and I don't, for the record,” he added slyly, startling a little laugh from her. “But I love who you are, and who you are trying to be. I know that you would give everything to protect me from harm, and I would do the same thing for you. This... with Arcann, with Quinn, with me.. this is who you are. It's not easy for me, but I can't pretend that I don't have a relationship with Arcann too, in our way. He may not love me, but I care about him. So... I have him, and you. And you have me, and him. And Quinn is your husband. I don't know how this will work out, or if it will. I don't know what Arcann will say. He is going to be a lot harder to talk to, Selirah. But I love you, and I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't care about the man you loved enough to actually marry.”

“Can I ask you something, Theron? Is it ever something you thought about? Marriage, that is.”

“Of course. In passing, sometimes.. I'll look at you, and think 'I could marry her'. But do I feel like we're lacking something because we're not married? No, I don't. I have no desire for anyone else, love. We are committed to each other. I don't need, or even really desire, that extra step, and you never seemed interested in it either.” Theron paused, then added dryly, “Of course, now I know you were already married, but.. still.”

“I might feel differently about marriage, if things had been different, between Quinn and I. But.. it is what it is, and now there's no more for me to tell. No more secrets.” She smiled ruefully up at him, and he bent to kiss her lips softly. “I'm sorry that I didn't tell you before.”

“If I'm honest.. you didn't -not- tell me before. You told me that you'd left your husband. You never said you'd divorced him. I've learned that you rarely outright lie. You just don't tell me everything, and if I don't think to ask for more detail, that's how things slip past me. I've figured you out, though,” Theron replied lightly, his tired smile still amazingly charming to Selirah's eyes. 

“Yes, you have. Will you help me talk to Arcann? I'm worried about it. I'm afraid I'll say the wrong thing, or we'll just end up screaming at each other and breaking things. I don't want to make things worse with him than I already have.”

“Hmm. I'll help, but I'm not going to team up against him. I think he'll need to feel like someone is supporting him. It might help him listen if he doesn't feel so threatened. But I also think you need to talk to Quinn, and give some thought about what you want to do there. What if Arcann asks if you're going to divorce Quinn, or if he wants you to send him away? You have to have answers to those things and know what your line is going to be.” His lips brushed the top of Selirah's head, and Theron laid his cheek against her skin, closing his eyes. A jaw-cracking yawn escaped him, and she chuckled softly at the sound. 

“Let's go to bed, love. Angry princes, superweapons, and traitors can all wait until we've gotten some rest, and I know you need a good night's sleep a lot more than I do.” 

Theron, caught mid-yawn yet again, let Selirah disentangle herself from him before he got up. His calm acceptance of her confessions aside, he had some pretty sizable concerns about what she was going to do about Quinn, and whether or not Arcann could be reasoned with. But there was no way of knowing right now what tomorrow would bring, and she was right; he was always so tired, these days. Just one night without the nightmares would be such an enormous relief, and he hoped that tonight might be that night. Once he was in bed, with Selirah's warm body curved against his, her arms around him and her head on his shoulder, it felt like a distinct possibility.


	73. Ex-Factor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann is regretting a Mandalorian's idea of a fun night out.
> 
> Theron seeks him out for a talk and continues being the most grown up person around. (Because Lana isn't here right now.) 
> 
> Feelings are expressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Only in the sense that it takes place on Iokath. ;)

**Alliance Barracks:**

Arcann slid the pillow over his head, pressing down to drown out the noise of the soldiers coming and going. He could hear Kass laughing somewhere nearby, and Pierce's distinctive accent. They'd all come back very late, and very drunk, and very successful in their plan to make off with the Imperial rank and file's money. He'd fallen into bed and passed out, rather than going to sleep, and regret was creeping in now that every sound was amplified enormously and his head was pounding. Footsteps approached the bed, and Arcann vainly hoped that they'd either keep going, or be headed towards one of the nearby empty bunks. Instead, someone sat down on the edge of his bed, and then just... waited. Hoping that talking to them would create a situation in which they would go away so he could sleep for a few more hours, he managed to force out a moderately polite, “What is it?”

“You need to get up, and get cleaned up, and come have some lunch with me. Or.. just maybe some caf, in your case, because even from here, I can see that you had a little too much of a good time last night.” Theron's voice was revoltingly cheerful, and the agent sounded far more rested than Arcann felt. Even so, an unwitting smile touched his lips under the concealing pillow, and he pushed it back, eyeing Theron blearily from under the shading edge of the pillowcase, keeping the overhead light from his eyes. 

“Welcome back, Theron. It's good to see you.” He rolled onto his side, up against the wall of the sleeping cubby, and Theron stretched out beside him, his head propped up on his hand. 

“Good to see you too. I hear there's been some interesting drama since I left,” Theron commented, and Arcann sighed quietly, pulling the pillow back over his head. 

“I knew you weren't here just to see me,” he answered, hearing the annoying note of petulance in his voice once the words were out. “You don't have to do her dirty work for her. I'd prefer it if you didn't. I'm not wrong to be angry, Theron. You can't possibly think that I am.”

Theron shook his head, then realized that Arcann couldn't see the gesture as he was. “No. You're not wrong, and she knows that too. You two are both so temperamental. Neither of you will listen to the other, and this is what happens. Seli knows she was wrong not to tell you, no matter what her reasoning was for doing it, Arcann.” 

“She talked you around, though, didn't she? She always talks you around to her point of view.”

“I know you think that I let her do whatever she wants, but that's not how it is. It took me a while to see it, but for so much of my relationship with her, I've expected her to try to conform to what I think is right. I wanted her, but I wanted a watered-down, Republic-friendly version of her. It wasn't who she was, and I don't think I would have fallen for her if she'd been... well, essentially a Jedi, I guess. I thought I wanted her to be different, and she kept trying to be someone she wasn't so I would be happy.” Theron flipped over onto his back, and Arcann put an arm around his waist, the other hand still on top of the pillow, probably to keep Theron's voice at a level that he could tolerate after his drinking binge. Resting his hands on the other man's arm, he continued quietly, “It wasn't fair of me to try to make her fit into a mold that was comfortable for me, instead of learning who she was, and letting her choose to change things that she -wanted- to change. I don't like everything she does, and I think she's too quick to be brutal in her efficiency sometimes. But I understand why she is the way she is, now – a lot more than I used to. Arcann, when has she ever tried to make you be someone else? When has she ever told you that you needed to be different, more like her, more like me, more like Quinn? I'd bet you a pile of credits that she never has. Seli has flaws, plenty of them. But not taking us the way we are.. that's not one of them.”

Arcann listened silently, feeling a little surprised at Theron's viewpoint of their relationship. But some part of him realized that the agent was almost entirely correct. Had she told him to calm down on his possessiveness, his envy? Certainly.. but had she threatened to stop loving him if he didn't change for her? Never. And he'd always had the feeling that her admonishments about his temper had been a lot more about the obvious way it distressed him when he got worked up, or the way it made him lash out and then feel guilty and full of regret for how he had treated others around him. He knew how much she hated to see him feeling bad about himself, or his behavior.

“I still get angry at her, and we still argue about things, and we don't always agree. And I wish she would have learned to be more open with us sooner, but when I think about the way that the Sith are among themselves, I understand why she's so tight-lipped about things that could be used against her. She trusts us, but an entire life spent defending herself from knives in the back is pretty hard to overcome in a few months, or even a few years. I'm glad she's doing it now, and Arcann, you need to know that it was Quinn who made her see how harmful that behavior can be to the people she values.” Theron ran his hand up the metal of Arcann's prosthetic hand and arm, and rested his hand on the prince's broad back, feeling him breathing slowly and evenly beneath his fingers. “I think you really need to talk to her. I support whatever you want to do afterward, even if you can't deal with how she feels. I'm not taking her side against you, and I have my own misgivings and concerns, too, no matter what you think about me being talked around to her point of view. But I do want you to talk to her. She misses you, and I know you miss her too.” 

Pushing the pillow askew so he could see Theron's face, Arcann looked at the other man, taking in the worry and concern in his hazel eyes, and the slightly disreputable stubble below it indicating that he'd come straight here from his own bed, without stopping to shave. A faint smile curved Arcann's lips. “You are such a puzzle to me, Theron Shan. I know you don't like the idea of this any more than I do. But here you are, telling me that I should give her a chance to explain, and listen to her, when you have to be feeling a lot of the same fears that I do.”

“Of course I do. But, it's been years that she and I have been together. And there's been plenty of mistakes I've made, and there was you, but she never stopped loving me, or wanting to spend her life with me, though it was hard for me to understand that her love for you didn't change how she felt about me. I'm also sure that I don't want to spend my life without her. I've known that for.. a long time, really. I love her. I love her smile, and her eyes, and her ruthlessness. I love how strong she tries to be for everyone else, and I love that she can be herself and be worried and scared and uncertain when she's with me, because it shows me that she trusts me. I love the way she loves me. I love her laugh, the way she sings when she's happy, and hums when she's fighting, her weird food choices, and her sense of humor. And this other part of her.. the part that made her fall in love with you? That's her too. It's not always my favorite part of her, just like your temper isn't my favorite part of you,” he added, smiling wryly at Arcann. “But if I try to make her change, then I'm saying she's not good enough as she is. Either I can live with who she is, or I can't, and that part is -my- choice. But I don't get to try to force her to be what I think she should be. And neither do you. Love her as she is and work hard to overcome the hard parts, or walk away.”

“I don't want to walk away, Theron. And I don't want to lose her. But.. it's hard to watch her look at him the way she does and know that once -he- was the one she loved, and that she married him, and despite what he did, she didn't end the marriage. Aren't you worried that she loves him more? That she'll want to spend her life with him, and not you and me? I don't have your years to fall back on. And I'm not like you, Theron. You...” Arcann's smile faltered, and he met Theron's gaze fully. “You're different from her, and that's what she loves the most about you. I'm not so different. What if she only loves me because of what's between us, our bond, and that turns out to not be enough in the face of years with Quinn, and years with you? I feel like I could lose her to her history with both of you. I hate feeling uncertain. I hate feeling so jealous.”

Knowing the prince's pride the way that he did, Theron understood that he was being trusted with something important here, and he pushed back his usual desire to joke, or lighten the mood, realizing it would not be appreciated. Not when Arcann had given him so much of a window to his insecurities and fears. “I don't worry about her loving him more, but I worry about losing some of our closeness. I worry that it'll be too hard for her to split her attention, with everything else she has going on in her life. But she loves you because of who you are, Arcann. She understands you, probably a lot better than she understands me. You're passionate, like her. Strong, like her. You hide things that hurt you.. like her. Volatile, moody, difficult... that's both of you. Don't be offended; I don't mean those things in a negative way, exactly, even if I find you both very frustrating sometimes. You both burn really brightly in the galaxy. People know you, they respect, or fear, or envy, or hate, or love you. You are both powerful. You understand her, and she loves having someone who sees who she is and doesn't see it as something that needs to change. It took me a while to see that. But I do now, and you should too.”

Arcann considered his words, and the uneasy tension in his face and body relaxed slowly, giving way to an openness and a more relaxed demeanor. “I do know that I'm not easy to get along with, Theron. I hope that you know I value you. I really have missed you, and I'm glad you came here to talk to me. You're right.. I need to talk to her. It was so hard in that moment though to even think of trying to talk to her. I was so angry.”

“Thus the drunken carousing with Mandalorians and soldiers?” Theron asked, his hand still idly stroking down the length of Arcann's spine, and drifting back upwards, tracing over the elegant angles and edges in his tunic. 

“Kass and Pierce.. I didn't mind them. But the way the Imperials looked at me..” His shoulders rose and fell in a studiously careless shrug, but Theron could feel the tension return under his hand. “I don't think I'll ever be able to atone for the things I've done to people. I'll always be the murderous former Emperor to so many people, no matter what I do from now on. I felt so guilty that I just kept drinking until their stares didn't bother me as much anymore.”

“Don't let Kass talk you into her elaborate plots for taking people's money,” Theron replied lightly, trying to distract him from the obvious pain he was feeling. The Imperials weren't wrong to feel as they did, but it wasn't easy watching Arcann sinking into such depression either. “And never drink with any of the Mandalorians. They'll drink you under the table, and use your credits to pay for it all while you're out.” 

“She gave me a share of the winnings. I was thinking...” Arcann paused, and his pale, sky-blue eyes flicked towards Theron's face, as if he were deciding if he wanted to share the idea or not. 

“What were you thinking?” 

“I don't know.. it's probably ridiculous. It'd take so many credits and it's not like there's any free time for any of us anyway.” 

Theron smiled, flattening his hand against Arcann's back, sliding it up to the nape of his neck and runing the tips of his fingers over the brush-short, dark blonde hair. “Come on, tell me.”

Arcann rolled his eyes at the obvious charm offensive, but he answered, so in Theron's estimation, that made it a winning strategy. “She doesn't seem to have a lot of wish to visit her penthouse anymore in Kaas City, with good reason, so.. I thought maybe I'd try to find a new place, for new memories. Foolish, I know.”

“It's not foolish. It's a good idea. She'd love that, Arcann. We should look around at some properties and see what we can find. Surprising her with a getaway spot of our own would be great. Maybe after we've gotten Iokath fully under our control, and don't have to be fighting a war, and dealing with everything else, though.” 

“We'll see. It was just an idea,” Arcann said dismissively, but Theron knew he was pleased at his support of the idea just the same. “Do I need to talk to her -now-? I feel like someone's wiggling a vibroknife around inside my head.” 

“Not now, no. We'll go get some food, and caf, and see how you're feeling after that. I just want you two to talk, and see if you can work this out and find common ground. I hate being in the middle and seeing both of you hurting.” 

Arcann's deep voice was amused, but warm and possibly even a little affectionate. “You hate always being the designated messenger between two difficult, stubborn people.”

“That too. Now let's go.”


	74. Bad Girlfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn discovers Selirah's method of blowing off steam. One of them, anyway. 
> 
> Temptation is narrowly avoided.
> 
> Theron's success with Arcann is short-lived in the face of Selirah's stubbornness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
>  
> 
> None, we're just on Iokath.
> 
> The song is arguably particularly fitting when it comes to Selirah. ;) Normally I'd have put this with a chapter that involved sex, but.. what can I say, it felt right here, and I -was- listening to it when I finished.

Going in search of Selirah, Quinn finally found her in one of the half-empty storage buildings. Several of the soldiers had pointed him that way, one commenting that the Empress spent an hour or two a day sequestered there. None of them seemed to find it particularly unusual, or even question it, which he thought was probably a positive response to her surprisingly egalitarian-leaning view of leadership. Growing up in the center of the Empire, and spending his life in the Imperial military and in service to Sith, Quinn had never imagined that he'd see someone of her rank in the Empire who would become so relaxed about the strictures of rank and her own position in particular. She was Sith, and powerful; as a rule, they were usually the least fond of underlings and the most likely to take their troops for granted as expendable gamepieces to be used without restraint in the pursuit of their goals and ultimate victory.

But Selirah was comfortable mingling with the soldiers, and knew a great many of them by name. She didn't necessarily socialize with them all, but she was careful with their lives and led them herself, regardless of the danger to her life. They responded with incredible loyalty and by pushing themselves above and beyond to meet her expectations, and that was astonishing to watch for him, given his experiences. Her advisers were all trusted, and heeded. She was close to them, and even considered them her friends... another unheard of behavior for a Sith of her level of power and influence. Even Darth Marr, who had been a very pragmatic leader, had never been so willing to embrace such an open exchange of ideas and personalities.

As he entered the building, he could hear blaster fire and laughter. Quinn's gaze went to Selirah immediately, watching her spin and slide away from the bolts. She moved beautifully, lithe and sure, dodging the shots, and using her blade to deflect others into the walls or ceiling. Her 'assailant' was laughing as she flung herself out of the way of a flurry of bolts, and he could hear them teasing each other over the sounds of the blaster shots. 

“That was a terrible shot, Colin. Maybe I should have asked the Mandalorians to spar with me.” Selirah made a disappointed face at Pierce, and the soldier responded with a center mass shot that she deflected handily so that it zipped just past him, forcing him to flinch aside. She laughed, and he fired two more shots at her face that she angled away, this time not towards him. “Now now, don't be angry. I didn't hit you with it.”

“-This- time,” Pierce retorted. “How many times have you hit me with my own shots over the years? Ten? Fifteen?” 

“Who's counting?” Selirah spun out of the way of a barrage of shots, then threw up a barrier, letting the next few shots explode against it. “Besides, that's why you've lived to such a ripe old age.. I keep your reflexes sharp.”

“Old, Seli?” Pierce gasped in mock horror, one large gloved hand pressed against his heart. “You're calling me OLD?” He drew a second blaster, and took aim at her. Quinn felt his heart nearly stop, but Selirah only laughed recklessly, making a curt 'come on' gesture with her free hand. The following few minutes were hard for him to watch, with blaster bolts flying everywhere and her saber a blur of purple light, but Selirah had that familiar joy in her eyes that he'd learned so well over the years. She was made for battle, for war. He'd wondered how she'd handled the relative domestication of a throne, and how boring and tedious she must find that life -- because it was obvious that here was where her happiness lay; combat, fighting, conflict, enemies all around. 

Stepping into the room as Pierce lowered and holstered his blasters, Quinn waited for them to notice him. She was still grinning and Pierce had his arm around her shoulders companionably when they looked up and saw him waiting in the doorway. “Have you come to take over for Pierce?” Selirah asked teasingly. Despite the exertion he'd just witnessed, Quinn had to admit that she certainly looked ready to take on a battalion of soldiers should it be necessary. 

“Not exactly, Empress. I wanted to find you and let you know that Alyxia is cleared for combat,” Quinn answered crisply. She lifted her gaze to meet his, and he looked into her face, and he saw the distant shadow of worry hiding in her eyes, but he knew it wasn't about the Mandalorian's relatively minor injuries. 

“I'm sure that she is. She wasn't too difficult, was she? Alyxia can be a little.. challenging,” she commented lightly, casting a quelling look at Pierce when he laughed at the characterization.

“Challenging? She's a bristling cornered ice cat,” Pierce interjected. Selirah shrugged, but didn't bother to argue against the accurate description.

“She told me she'd stick a plasma grenade in... a delicate location, and watch me explode if I didn't clear her. And then also post video of the event to the Holonet,” Quinn admitted sourly, and Selirah's expression softened into a lazy smile. 

“I would not let her do anything to you. She knows it. It is an idle threat.” Her tone was flat, despite the smile curving her lips. Pierce glanced at both of them, and then excused himself, leaving them alone in the cavernous building. “How have you been, Malavai? I have been too busy to see much of you, lately.”

“Deliberately busy, I suspect, though I am perfectly aware that you have plenty of responsibility to keep you legitimately busy. You wanted to stay away from me, and you succeeded in it admirably. And so I was exiled from your company, and Theron is here, now. Should I assume that you have spoken with him already?”

Selirah stepped away from him, sinking down to sit on a nearby stasis crate. She turned the hilt of her lightsaber slowly in her hands, looking at it rather than at Quinn. “I told him, yes. I don't think he is as accepting as he seemed, but I am glad that he listened and is considering it. His viewpoint will not be echoed by Arcann, most likely. But as of yet...” Her shoulders lifted and fell in a studied gesture that was not echoed by the faint tension around her black-encircled eyes. “He has not chosen to talk to me, and I have been respecting his wish for time.” 

“You've grown more patient in my absence. It's intriguing.” He came closer to her, and she gestured at the crate beside hers, knowing that he would not allow himself to sit so informally beside her in public without her invitation. Quinn sat, his back ramrod-straight, feet shoulder-width apart in contrast to Selirah's lazy, comfortable slouch. “You miss him. Arcann, that is.”

“I have learned that I should not smash my way through -everything- in life. But I am still impatient. I want everything to be … right.” She paused a moment, and he saw her rethink her words, a small frown touching her face. “No. Not right. Easier. And yes, I miss him. Theron and I both do. But I can wait.” The frown eased into a more neutral expression, and her violet eyes moved towards him. She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes drinking him in. He could see something move in her gaze, an emotion awakening. Quinn knew her mercurial moods, and he knew in great personal detail how she often felt after a fight or a challenging workout. All of that energy and power had to go somewhere, and she frequently had turned her battle lust on him in their years together; which were memories that Quinn had always greatly cherished. “I can wait,” she repeated, but this time it sounded more like she was convincing herself of something than talking to him directly. 

“So can I. But I hope that I won't have to for very much longer.” Quinn offered his hand to her, palm upwards, and she hesitated a moment before laying her hand in his. “Do you still have your ring? I know that you don't wear it, and you had no reason to do so. But I am still curious as to whether you kept it, or not.”

Selirah nodded, glancing at her crimson skin, bright against the black of his uniform gloves. “I have it. Aboard the Fury, in my chamber. Do you still have yours, Malavai?”

“Of course. I never ceased to hope that we would find our way back to each other someday, Selirah.” He smiled at her, and she felt her heart trip at the way he looked at her with his dark-lashed blue eyes. His smile softened his austere features, and made them even more impossibly handsome, showing a glimpse of the man that he so carefully hid behind his rigid demeanor. It was so tempting to just close her hand on his. She could pull him close, feel his mouth against hers again, his hands on her body. Just once...

A flicker of awareness touched the edges of her mind at that moment, and she pulled back slowly, her hand slipping away from Quinn's. His attentive gaze caught the shift in her expression; the way her eyes went distant and unfocused, and he wondered if she sensed something. Or someone, as the case may be, he thought sourly. As if she knew what he was thinking, Selirah rose to her feet, her behavior shifting from intimate to professional in an instant. 

“Please excuse me, Malavai. Thank you for telling me about Alyxia. She will be pleased to be given free rein to blow things up again,” she said with a quick, superficial smile that did a poor job of masking the anticipation and worry that was showing in her eyes when she glanced at Quinn. The Twi'lek was out the door before he could say anything in response, and he watched her cross the courtyard, entering the base. Mere moments later, Theron and Arcann came across the courtyard as well from the direction of the barracks, talking to each other in low voices. Quinn could hear the rumble of the taller man's deep voice, and see the coiled tension in his walk. They were doubtless heading to speak with Selirah, and he wondered how she had known, or what she had felt that had alerted her. It stung, knowing she was meeting with the prince, that she sought to regain his favor and affection so assiduously. However, Quinn knew that he had reason to feel positive, as well. 

She had kept her wedding ring.

**Selirah's Quarters:**

The door opened when she was removing her armor, and Selirah didn't even bother to look behind her. There was no need, when she could feel Arcann's presence so strongly. A pair of hands ran up her arms, then slid her flexible chest armor off, setting it aside before returning to wrap around her waist below the soft tank top she'd worn beneath it. She leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment. “I see you were busy today, Theron,” she said mildly, and heard him chuckle in response. 

“I doubt you're surprised. You need to talk to him, and he needs to talk to you. But both of you are so proud. If I let you have your way, you'd both be stubborn for weeks or months, and I don't want to live in the demilitarized zone between you.” Theron's tone was infinitely reasonable, and also rife with amusement, but Selirah could hardly fault his logic, so she didn't try. Instead, she remained in the comfortable circle of his arms for a moment longer before taking a deep breath to gather her courage, and moving away. 

Arcann was already on the couch, his right arm lying along the back and his booted feet outstretched across the floor. He looked as if he felt pretty sorry for himself, his eyes closed and obvious signs of exhaustion and hangover written all over his face. Theron went to the computer station while Selirah hesitated in approaching Arcann, making a shooing motion with one hand when she looked at him, hoping for help of some kind. She rolled her eyes in exasperation, but obeyed, folding her legs under herself as she perched on the opposite end of the couch. “Can we talk now, Arcann, or would you rather not?” she began cautiously, half expecting him to shoot down any notion of conversation, particularly with how tired he looked. 

But he nodded, a short, slow motion of his head that was probably meant to keep it from hurting worse than it likely already did. “Our Theron seems to think that we need to work out our differences,” he remarked, his voice a low, amused rumble of sound. “And perhaps he is correct. I prefer spending my evenings with the two of you to spending them with Kass and Pierce, drinking myself into an oblivious stupor and waking up miserable and alone.”

“I would prefer that you were with us as well. But I'm not going to try to say that you were wrong to be hurt. It was wrong not to tell you the truth, and to let you find out from Quinn, instead of me. I am sorry, keella. I hope you can forgive me for keeping it from you for so long.” Selirah stretched her legs out, leaning against the arm of the couch. 

“I know better than to think I will be able to stay angry at you for too long, Seli. But you can't do this, not to either of us. If you want us to be part of your life, you are going to have to learn to be more honest with us.”

“Honest? I didn't -lie-...” Selirah protested furiously, and Theron glanced at her from the desk across the room. 

“That's splitting hairs pretty fine. You didn't tell him, and how would he have known to ask? You knew that he would be unlikely to ask, Seli, and that's exactly what you hoped would happen,” he said pointedly, and though she looked incredibly irritated by Theron's words, Selirah fell silent, taking a moment to get her temper under control. 

“Yes, fine, Theron,” she said curtly. “You're both correct. And I am trying to do better. I know that I need to be open about things with you. It's... it's difficult to break the habits that kept me alive for all this time,” she admitted in a rush, and with her eyes lowered, failed to see the look that the two men exchanged. “I don't know how to tell people things that could be used against me. To harm me. If I told you.. it's not that I'm afraid you would do anything against me, yourselves. It's that I'm afraid an enemy could capture one of you and force you to tell them. The same way that they could use our bond against me, keella, if they knew about it.”

Arcann's silence drew out, and she began to feel worried that he was angry about her outburst of temper. Daring a look at him, she found his cerulean gaze resting on her face, as if he'd been waiting for her to turn her attention on him. He held out a hand to her, and she moved without thinking, coming to his side where he slid his prosthetic arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his broad chest. “You let too many things eat at you without sharing them, Seli,” he told her, his voice quiet. “It would be easier to bear the weight of all these worries if you allowed us to help you with them. And it would eliminate problems like this one, if you weren't keeping things from us.”

Theron came over to them, taking a seat on the table in front of the couch. “See, much better. Everyone's on the same page, no one's upset anymore, everyone's happy. Especially me,” he finished with a cocky smile, and Arcann rolled his eyes in response. “Don't roll your eyes at me. I can't help how right I am all the time.” 

“It's a burden, I'm sure.” Selirah leaned her cheek against Arcann's chest, closing her eyes for a moment and letting herself enjoy the warmth of his body against hers. She had to force herself to give affection sometimes in public to them, unless they'd been apart for a long time. Theron had always been a little hands-off in that department, though he rarely said no to her if she was determined to kiss him in full view. Arcann had the opposite view of public affection, though, and it was hard for her to break the habit of keeping it behind closed doors that she'd learned with Quinn and Theron. But in private, she could and did touch them as often as possible, and enjoyed the unaccustomed feeling of having two people in her life that she could trust entirely. “But there's something we haven't talked about.” The fact that Arcann had kept away from her while he was upset was regrettable, because it was likely that he'd be angry again after this. “And we need to discuss Quinn and come to some kind of agreement.”

Arcann's breathing changed, growing a little uneven, even as she felt his emotions spike. She'd expected as much, but it was hard to read him when he was so stirred up, even if the most prevalent emotion was easy to sense. His jealousy was white-hot in their connection, and she set her jaw stubbornly, refusing to let herself back down no matter how much she had missed him and feared driving him away with this. Quinn was trusting her to talk to them about him, and while she knew he wouldn't approve of her position about sending him away, Selirah knew that she couldn't just unequivocally state that she would do whatever she liked. It would certainly have caused far worse trouble between her and Theron, much less Arcann, who was quite significantly more volatile than the agent. 

“You're right, love,” Theron said, giving Arcann a look. The prince's tension didn't abate, even slightly, but he seemed to at least be listening to the other man. “Arcann, it's not going to help if you lose your temper before we even start talking about it. He is her husband. I know you don't like it. I don't like it. Nobody here is happy with any of this situation, not even Seli. But we still need to discuss it.”

“She's unhappy because she's not getting what she wants,” Arcann said acidly. “She wants me to tell her it's fine for her to want that Imperial. I won't do that, no matter how either of you tries to make it sound better than it is.”

“You want to get what you want, too. So does Theron. You don't get to say no just because you're jealous.” Selirah sighed internally and straightened, pulling away from Arcann's embrace. It was harder to do than she'd imagined it would be.. part of her did want to make things easier. If she sent Quinn away, Arcann wouldn't feel so threatened. Things could go back to normal for them all. If she just sent him away..

_Malavai, standing handsomely framed in the floor to ceiling windows of the Kaas City penthouse in the morning light, looking out on the stormy, tumultuous view of the city from their bedroom._

_Making dinner for her on the first night after their wedding, and insisting on sharing every dish. Particularly the dessert, which had turned out to be liquid chocolate that had ended up all over her and her new husband. Cleaning it up had been -extremely- enjoyable._

_His courage and steadfast loyalty to her in the field, his fearlessness, the way he had never left her side, even in the most dangerous of battles._

_The intensely pleasurable sight of his gorgeous body framed by the dark silk sheets in their shared quarters on the Fury while he slept beside her._

_His voice, reading her favorite study of lightsaber forms and combat methods to her, one quiet day on Kaas City, both of them wrapped in a blanket, laying together on the couch near the fireplace. She'd been able to feel every breath he took beneath her cheek as he spoke, and could still remember the smile in his voice when he'd asked if she'd like him to read her a treatise on the history of war in the Empire for a bedtime tale._

_The steaming cups of spiced caf on her bedside table in the mornings._

The memories came faster and faster, until Selirah shook her head sharply, pushing them away, forcing herself to refocus on what was going on right now. Theron and Arcann were both talking, arguing. “I don't see any reason why we even need to consider this, or him. Yes, he's her husband, but that was years ago and she left him. That's over. He betrayed her. Why should we trust him not to do it again?” Arcann shook his head vehemently, “No. We should send him away. I'm not denying that he's talented and that his skills would be useful to the Alliance. So give him an outpost to man, or use him as a political emissary. I'm sure he would excel at it.”

“I don't disagree, but that's a little unfair. Do you really think we should exile Quinn because we don't want him here? Or that he deserves to get sent to some backwater planet because it will remove him from the equation of our relationship? Look, I don't like it either, but I'm not sure it's reasonable to just jump straight to shipping him off. I think we need to get to know him a little better and see how we feel about things then.” Theron replied, casting a glance at Selirah as her attention returned to them both. “Seli, you're being awfully quiet. Don't you have anything to say about all of this?”

“I don't want to get to know him,” snapped Arcann, his pale blue eyes filled with anger and jealousy. “Theron, we get along with each other. We had to work to get to this point, and I don't think it's even mildly possible that we're going to find common ground with Quinn like we did with each other.”

“That's what you said about me, Arcann. You're not even trying to see Selirah's side, here.. I am. I have my doubts too, but you're not even willing to discuss it fairly.”

Knowing that they could go back and forth like this for hours and arrive at no conclusion, Selirah finally just broke in, her eyes shifting between both men, watching their reactions as she spoke. “You want me to be honest with you. Both of you do. So here is some honesty – I won't be able to stay away from him forever. I don't know what that means, or what it will become. I don't know if I just need to get it out of my system, or if it will bring back to me all of what Quinn and I had together. But this is the truth that I'm telling you, so listen to me and believe me when I tell you that even if I sent Quinn away to the furthest part of the known galaxy, somehow, I would find myself back with him again.”

She got to her feet, taking in both Arcann and Theron's expressions. The former looked thunderously furious.. the latter cautious and uneasy. “I love you, Theron. I love you, Arcann. I wanted to actually talk about this, and I thought I could offer to send him away, and I meant to do it, to give the option, even though I knew that you would want him gone, keella. But I can't do it. We'll have to find another way to deal with it.” Selirah's words came faster as she spoke, until they were nearly tripping over themselves to emerge, as if she couldn't control them at all. “Quinn is important to me. So we'll put this discussion aside for now, and when we talk about it again, we'll figure out what compromises we're willing to make, together. Just understand that I will not exile him. I will not send him away.” Her eyes hardened, and she held both of their gazes. “Not ever.”

Arcann's fury was expected, blasting her through the bond and in his hands, both knotted into tight, frustrated fists at her ultimatum. Theron's emotions were much harder to read. His hazel eyes were thoughtful, and withdrawn, and his face showed nothing – not disappointment, not anger, not agreement. He just seemed to be waiting to react until he was sure what the best option would be. “Selirah, if you think I'm going to give you free rein to do whatever you want just because you've drawn a line and are daring me to cross it, you're wrong,” Arcann said coldly. “We can talk about it later, if you wish. But my answer will remain the same. Send him away.”

“Arcann..” Theron began, but the prince cut him off with a curt gesture, standing up to leave. “Don't go, Arcann. You know walking out isn't going to make anything better, or more likely to end the way you want it to. This isn't what you want, I get it, but leaving isn't going to make you feel better about it. Stay here, with us. With me, if you prefer to think of it that way. I don't care how you rationalize it, but I think leaving is a mistake,” he tried again, hastily. Selirah's face was set in intractable lines, but he could see the fear in her eyes that Arcann was going to walk out again, and that this time, he might not come back at all, but he knew she would not bend on Quinn, not right now. Arcann still had yet to learn that with her, there were times to retire from the battlefield and try a different tactic, and this was definitely one of those times. “Come on. I'll even sleep in the middle.”

The temper on Arcann's face shifted slightly, and after a moment, he even managed to.. if not smile.. at least not look quite so likely to break things and choke random Alliance members on the way back to his bunk in the barracks. “Just for tonight,” he conceded, giving Selirah a narrow-eyed look. “That's all I will promise.”

“Good. I think we can work this out between us. But everyone needs to cool down. No more talk about this tonight, or tomorrow. One day's grace period.”

“Alright, Theron. At least one day's grace. You are such a peacemaker, love.” Selirah took Theron's hands, and he rose, wrapping one arm around her waist. “I'm sorry for being difficult. To both of you.”

Theron kissed her, pulling her close against him. “I know you are. And I know this is complicated for you. We're going to figure it out, together.” 

“I love you, Theron,” she told him quietly, her forehead resting against his. They held each other for a moment longer, and then she drew away, taking Arcann's cybernetic hand in hers. His eyes lifted to meet her violet gaze, and she cupped his face with her free hand. “I love you, keella. I'm sorry that this is so hard for you, but it's hard for me, too.”

“I do know that, Seli,” the prince replied after a moment, his shoulders easing from their tight line. “I'm trying to understand how you feel in all of this. It's just not easy.”

Theron relaxed as the two of them began to talk about other things, discussing the droid Tyth, and the defenses of the Republic base. He went back to the computer station to do some work and catch up with Lana, but he kept his attention partly focused on Selirah and Arcann, ready to head off another argument if it looked like one was about to start. The truth was, he'd expected her to refuse to send Quinn away, on some level. He knew she had feelings for the man, and it was abundantly clear that Quinn loved her. But with Selirah on one side of the argument, and Arcann on the opposite, Theron wasn't sure what sort of compromise was going to please either side. And he still wasn't sure which side he agreed with at all. The one thing that was certain to him was that Selirah wanted something more with her estranged husband than she had right now. The question was just how far it had to be taken in order to satisfy her, and how much he and Arcann were willing to accept.

And that answer was far from clear.


	75. Not Ready To Lose You Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron's bad dreams bring a talk about family.
> 
> Theron gets an idea.
> 
> Selirah talks to Quinn, but things don't go quite as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Still nothing but location! Song notes at the end, because for once it was sort of integral to the writing of the actual chapter.

Selirah woke with a start, moments after Theron sat bolt upright in bed, a choked shout escaping him. She could feel Arcann come awake at the same time, his lightsaber hilt already in his hand as if he'd suspected they were under attack. Relaxing as they both simultaneously realized it was another of his bad dreams, Arcann put the saber back on the side table, and Selirah turned her attention on Theron, reaching out to stroke her hand down his back soothingly. “Is it the dreams, still?” she asked, but she could see the answer on his face as clearly as if she'd been able to share his emotions like Arcann's. 

“Yeah. It gives me a whole new appreciation for how it must have felt for you, Arcann. You grew up with your father, knowing him, with him a part of your life, however distant. If it makes me feel this terrible, it must have been really hard for you.” Theron lay back down as he spoke, his breathing still coming raggedly, and Selirah and Arcann bracketed him. The prince propped his head up on his hand and laid on his side so he could look at Theron, his expression difficult to read in the darkened room with only the faint sidelights providing any illumination.

“It was.. complicated, with my father. Everything was,” Arcann admitted, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. “I hated him so much, but craved his love, and I needed him to be proud of me and to see what I could accomplish. He cut us off at the knees every chance that he got, and made us feel like we'd never be good enough. But it was painful, knowing that he would never approve of me once he was gone. That I would never have the chance to really feel like I was his son, and that he cared about me. As time went on, I realized what he was, and I knew that it would never have mattered what I did. Your father, Theron.. he wasn't like mine. If he'd been able to spend more time with you, it would have been very different for you.”

Selirah lay with her head on Theron's shoulder, listening quietly, her hand resting on his chest and one leg entangled with his. There was little she could offer; her own family was not even a distant memory.. it was basically no memory at all for her. But Arcann understood Theron's guilt and sadness, even if he'd hidden it very well for a long time. She'd seen his face when his father had tried to turn him against her, had told him that no son of his would ever serve someone else. _You have no son_ , he'd said flatly, but the pain in his eyes when he'd finally admitted that truth out loud to his father and himself had been so raw that she'd felt an unexpected stab of pity and sympathy for him, despite everything he'd done and put her through. 

“Did you feel guilty? When Valkorian died.. well, when he -really- died? I feel so guilty. Our last encounter was terrible. He was so angry at me, so disappointed that I would choose the Alliance over the Republic. Even though he knew why I'd left in the first place, and he knew nothing had changed.. he still expected me to turn on Seli in that moment and was furious with me that I wouldn't do it. I feel like I never knew him at all, or that there was some part of him that I just never knew was inside him. There was so much hatred in his face when he looked at her. At both of us,” Theron said, his voice trailing off into a quiet, hurt silence. He laid one hand over Seli's, stroking her slender fingers, and the other hand sought out Arcann's right hand. The prince took his hand in his own, giving what comfort that he could offer.

“He didn't hate you, Theron,” Selirah interjected gently. “I have seen that kind of single-minded obsession before, and he was only thinking of doing whatever it took to save the Republic, and his life's work. In that moment, it wasn't about you. He realized afterwards what it had cost him, and he was sorry for what he'd done. He loved you, Theron. He wouldn't want you to feel torn up about what happened. It was his choice, not yours. You tried to help him. We both did.”

Theron laid his cheek against the top of her head, his hand tightening on hers. “You're right. Both of you are right. And I do know that I have nothing to feel guilty about. I stood by my convictions, and I know that it was the right choice. It's just hard knowing that I can't talk to him, or try to make him understand why I made the decision that I did. There's so much regret.” He closed his eyes, feeling their hands in his, and Selirah's warm skin pressed against his side. His family was so complicated that at times, he envied Seli's lack of connection to her own. There was no one to disappoint, or anger, or worry about pleasing. Everything she did stood or fell on its own merits, and she only had herself, and the people she chose to let into her life, to concern herself with. 

But he knew she didn't understand his feelings about his father, or his mother. Or Arcann's complex grief about his troubled relationships with his parents and siblings. He'd seen the look on her face in that moment with Jace in the control room of the superweapon, and the only thing she'd been concerned with was protecting him, herself, and her people from what would happen if he'd successfully activated the weapon. She would have cut Jace down without a thought and never missed a moment of sleep afterwards, and he wasn't sure that she'd have felt any different if it'd been her own father there in front of her. Her Imperial upbringing had made her a different person, and even with his family being such a mess.. he was still glad that he had known who they were, and what kind of people had gone into making him who he was. 

“Seli,” Theron added abruptly, as something clicked in his thoughts. “Do you think Quinn would talk to me sometime, just... to talk?” 

She stirred against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his bare skin. “Of course he would, love. What do you want to talk to him about?”

“The Empire.. being Imperial. I'm curious. Pierce wouldn't have the same perspective, I gather..” Selirah laughed softly, and Theron couldn't help a small smile at the amused sound. “That's a definite yes on the perspective, then. I just realized that he has a point of view that I haven't really heard. I have.. questions. Lots of them.”

“I'm sure you do. Once a spy, always a spy. I'll tell him for you.” She stretched lazily against him, settling more comfortably. “Feeling ready to try to sleep again? No more bad dreams this time, I forbid them.” 

“Why didn't you just do that from the start? Would have saved me so many sleepless nights.” 

“Complain, complain, complain...” Selirah closed her eyes, listening to Theron's breathing as he drifted off to sleep several minutes later. She could hear Arcann, his deeper breathing pattern slow and rhythmic, and was glad that he was at least there with them. But she missed his arms around her, and wished that she knew the right thing to do, or even thought that there -was- a choice that would make everything work out the way she wished that it could. 

**Medical Bay, Alliance Base:**

Arms loaded with supplies, Quinn went straight to the storage locker in the med bay. Juggling them carefully, he tried to open the latched door with a fingertip and the toe of one boot, but one stack fell from his grip despite his caution. He cursed inventively, and pulled the door open, depositing the other stacks neatly onto the shelves. Then it occurred to him that he hadn't heard the fallen pile hit the floor. He looked down, then turned halfway around, and there they were. Hovering in mid-air behind him, neatly stacked. Taking hold of them as if it weren't unexpected to find things floating around him, he turned back to the locker and placed them beside the other supplies. “Good morning, Selirah.”

“Not even a thank you, Malavai? My feelings are hurt,” she said from her perch on one of the patient beds, where she sat cross-legged. 

“You didn't do it out of the kindness of your heart?” he replied, a thread of humor flavoring the exchange. “It would seem then that your metamorphosis has limits. That's good. I can't imagine you in Jedi robes.”

“I'm sure I could find some, if you'd like to see how I'd look in them.” With this arch offering, Selirah braced both elbows on her bent knees, propping her chin up in her hands. “I have a request for you, from Theron.”

Quinn turned around, closing the storage locker with one hand. “I see. Does it involve an airlock? Because I'll have to offer my regrets, if so.” His humor sounded slightly forced this time, and he picked up a datapad from the nearby desk, entering the new supplies on the inventory list.

She watched him silently from the bed, waiting until he looked up at her, reading the trepidation in his dark eyes which was at war with the pointed coolness on his face. “No airlocks. He wants to talk to you about... culture, I suppose.”

Quinn arched a brow, his nervousness replaced with obvious curiosity. “Culture? I confess, I can't begin to imagine what he wants to know. Do you have more information than that?” 

“Imperial culture. We were talking about his father, and then he asked me if you would talk to him about being raised as an Imperial. I said I would ask you.” She shrugged indifferently. “I'm not sure what it's about. Perhaps he just wants to understand you.”

“Or you.” Quinn crossed the room, the datapad still in his hands. As he came close to her, she reached out and took it from his hands, dropping it onto the bed, bringing a small smile to his lips. “It's not as if you are gregarious about your upbringing, Selirah. It would be smart to ask me instead, and get a better picture of Imperial life, even if my experiences would not be similar to a Sith's. It would give him a better framework for your behavior.”

“My -behavior-?” Selirah rolled her eyes, the answering smile she gave him taking the sting out of the reaction. “My behavior is completely normal.” 

Quinn's smile warmed. “Of course it is. For you. There is nothing about you that is typical. But if he thinks that Imperial society is going to give him an insight into you, he might not be too far off the mark. I can see the benefits in such an approach. He could be curious about me, as well. Agent Shan seems as if he enjoys having as many facts as possible about problems that face him.” He stepped closer to Selirah, and her violet eyes lifted to his face. He saw her fingers flex under her chin, and her gaze flickered towards the open door. “Do you want me to close the door?”

“You're right about him... he does want to know as much as he can before he makes any decisions,” Selirah answered, her eyes moving from the door, to Quinn's face, and then back again. “Yes. But don't do it.” 

Gloved fingers touched her arm, trailing up the side of her forearm to the edge of her hand where it was folded into a fist under her chin. She took his hand in both of hers, opening the wrist of his glove and sliding it off his hand, baring his strong fingers. The glove joined the datapad on the bed, and Quinn watched her turn his hand so that the palm was upright, her bare fingers touching his skin, tracing the lines crossing his hand idly. He drew in a short breath, astonished that such a benign touch could feel so incredibly suggestive to him. “Are you afraid that if I close the door, something will happen?” he asked, knowing that the answer was obvious to both of them right now. But some part of him needed her to admit it; to say out loud that she felt the same way that he did.

“Not afraid, no.” Selirah's fingers slid over his palm, spreading his fingers. Then she abruptly released his right hand, instead taking his left hand. He watched her unfasten that glove, and then he stiffened, starting to withdraw it before she could remove the glove. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and he froze at the subtle warning. “Certain is a better word for it, don't you think?” She pulled the glove off his left hand with very deliberate motions, loosening it on one finger at a time, then drawing it off his hand. Quinn straightened, his chin lifting, turning his face slightly away as she held his hand in both of hers, looking at his fingers and the simple band on the third finger. “Malavai,” she breathed almost inaudibly, surprise obvious in the word. 

He kept his eyes averted, drawing his pride around himself like armor. “I know what you likely think. That it was foolish hope to wear it for all these years, when you had made clear your feelings. I have no argument against that fact. It was foolish to hope, but I could not make myself take it off and put it aside.” Quinn could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn't look at her, even though he knew that his embarrassment was making his cheeks terribly red. He hadn't expected her to do anything like this, not before it would have been acceptable for him to still be wearing his wedding ring, at least. But he should have known better. If there was anything predictable about Selirah, it was her unpredictability.

“That's not what I'm thinking, Malavai.” One of her hands touched his chin, her fingers gentle, guiding him to look at her. His cheeks flamed even hotter with shame, but there was no mockery in the violet eyes. “Why should I think that it's foolish to hope for another chance? To hope that someone you love will see the good that far outweighs the mistake?” His eyes finally fully met hers, and she could see the fragile hope dawning in the dark blue of his gaze, the easing of his tense, defensive posture as she held his left hand in her right gently, skin to skin. “Do you think that I don't regret letting my anger poison everything we had? I knew how unfair it was to expect you to stand against Baras. I should have been able to understand the position that you were in, but I didn't. He may not have lived to see his triumph, but he destroyed both of us with his machinations.”

“I have never stopped hating myself for my lack of courage in those days. I had a million opportunities to tell you the truth, and I should have done it. I should have taken the risk, and trusted you.” Quinn's hand closed on hers, suddenly, tightly, and he pulled her to her feet. Her eyes were locked on his, and he could swear he could almost hear the pounding of her heart. Selirah looked up at him, desperation in her face and in the way her free hand rested against his chest as if she couldn't decide if she should push him back, or pull him closer. He knew he should release her. Let her leave. But it felt like removing his wedding band to let her go now. He couldn't make his hand loosen around hers, or stop the other hand from wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer still. “I'm sorry, for everything. Forgive me.”

“I didn't come here for this. At least.. I don't think I did. Maybe..” Selirah sighed. “Maybe I did. I don't know what to do.” Quinn had to assume that this was more of a mental uncertainty than a physical one, because she slid the hand on his chest up to the nape of his neck, and leaned up on her toes. Her lips met his and for both of them, it was like an electric shock went through their bodies. His arm tightened, and he lifted her off her feet entirely, bringing her closer until he couldn't begin to tell her where her body ended and his began. He could feel her legs wrap around his hips, and her other arm joined the first, twining around his shoulders, her fingers digging into his dark hair. The taste of her mouth against his was intoxicating, and the warmth of her body drove him crazy, his need drowning every other sense. 

Quinn could hear her say his name against his lips, and his hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into her back until she gasped in pleasure. He laid her on the bed, raising a hand to sweep the gloves and the datapad aside. The device hit the hard floor and both of them heard the screen crack at the impact, but neither of them cared. He felt her fingers on his uniform, impatiently pulling it open, and he shrugged his shoulders out of it, letting her slide it down over his arms where it fell to the floor. Every moment that it took him to unfasten her armor terrified him. He half-expected her to stop him, to change her mind, to realize that they couldn't do what they were doing, especially in the middle of the med bay with the door wide open to the hall beyond. 

But she didn't stop him, and he heard the door close as she glanced at it, clearly finding this a time for the frivolously lazy use of power instead of physically closing it herself. The lock illuminated on the panel, and Selirah arched up against him as he peeled her armor off piece by piece, stripping the tight leggings down crimson thighs, throwing her boots to the floor. Her lightsaber hilt bounced off the floor with a metallic thud, and she growled against his mouth, biting his lower lip sharply enough to draw blood, tasting the copper flavor against her tongue and swallowing his groan, muffling it with her lips. She barely had his pants down before he was lifting her right leg under the knee, hooking one arm under it, spreading her thighs apart. Her eyes closed as she felt the blunt, thick tip of his shaft nudge against her, her hips lifting eagerly. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he managed to say, his voice strained with the effort of not simply burying himself in her to the hilt and finally feeling her around him again. As much as he wanted exactly that, Quinn knew he needed for her to say that she wanted it too, that it wasn't a mistake, something she'd regret tomorrow... or the minute they were done, for that matter. His arms trembled, but he waited, looking into her face as her eyes opened to meet his gaze.

“If you stop now, I -will- kill you,” she answered, the threat mitigated somewhat by the fact that Quinn was relatively sure she was only joking. She took a deep breath, gathering a little composure, and added more gently, “Don't stop, Malavai. Please.” The point could definitely be made that he'd been conditioned to instantly obey every order or wish expressed by her since she'd first taken him on all those years ago on Balmorra. But never had he felt more happy to do so as he did in this moment. He could feel her against him, and the satin sleekness of her against his cock was intensely inviting. But Quinn didn't let himself close his eyes as he pushed forward, sinking into her inch by deliciously, enticingly slow inch. He watched her face instead, seeing the pleasure darken her eyes, her lips parted on a soft moan of long-anticipated fulfillment. The naked emotion in her face echoed his own, and she saw the satisfaction fill his dark blue eyes, the passion suffusing his pale, Imperial coloring with an attractive flush. 

His hand ran over her side, fingers trailing down over her ribs, tracing the circular scar there. His palm covered it, and his hips flexed, driving into her with a controlled rhythm, but Selirah could feel the powerful passion inside him that had built over the days of holding back from what he wanted, of watching her without touching her. She could feel the violent desire fighting against the leash of his discipline and restraint, and she pulled him down to her, her lips finding his again, letting him feel every breath of how much she wanted him. Quinn made a frustrated sound against her mouth, and the control that he was trying so hard to hold onto snapped. He let go of her leg, instead taking hold of her wrists and pinning them one by one above her head. Selirah wrapped her legs around his waist as his thrusts gained speed and lost their rhythm, feeling his passion overwhelm him like a river overflowing its banks in a storm. She closed her eyes, arching her back under him and lifting her hips to meet his, unable to think of anything in this moment but how right it felt to have him with her again. 

Pleasure overtook her every nerve ending, and she bit back a cry of release, coming apart beneath Quinn as he drove hard into her, pinning her hips to the bed, her wrists captive in his hands. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her climax, and feel his satisfaction as he gave the last shreds of his tattered control to keep going, burying himself into her until the pleasure was too much to bear. He couldn't stop himself from spilling over the edge into orgasm, and he didn't try. Selirah's hands curled into fists above his grip, her nails biting into her palms, and she shuddered helplessly in his grip, the intense sensation of her body around him giving him an indescribable sense of ecstasy. 

Many minutes later, the furthest either of them had managed to move was to stretch out on their sides in the narrow bed, bodies still entwined and joined together intimately, her eyes closed and her head tucked into the curve between his neck and shoulder, breathing the woodsy clean scent of his skin. “So,” Quinn said, his clipped accent softened by the obvious contentment Selirah could feel rolling off him in waves. “It's fine if Theron has questions to ask me. It's .. probably the very least I could do. Now.”

There was a long silence, and then Selirah snorted suddenly with laughter. “That's horrible, Malavai.”

“It really is. I know I should feel guilty.” Quinn shrugged, the motion moving the shoulder under her cheek lightly. “But I don't. I know how quickly things can change. For me, for you, for them, any of us. I'm not sorry that we had this time together, because I love you, Selirah. If it never happens again, I'll have this to remember, and so will you.”

She smiled, and he could feel the curve of her lips against his skin, and the press of her lips as she kissed his throat. Her fingers found his left hand, touching the band around his third finger, turning it slowly. “I'm glad that you're not sorry.” 

Quinn couldn't help but notice that she didn't return the sentiment of not feeling guilty, or not being sorry. But he knew her; it was unlikely that she was sorry for letting passion win out over circumspection and patience. It didn't make it any more likely that he was safe, though, or out of the woods yet. He was sure that neither Theron nor Arcann were planning to embrace him into their arrangement with Selirah, and he had no way of knowing what she would decide to do either. 

He held her in his arms, the sweet scent of the oil on her skin teasing his senses, and took pleasure in the moment for as long as it was going to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used is vital here because I literally listened to it on repeat the whole time I was writing this chapter. ;) 
> 
> Roots - Lucie Silvas
> 
> _There is fear in the thought of freedom.  
>  There are ways out, and I see them.  
> But I choose to be held captive...  
> As crazy as I know that is._
> 
> _I find strength in the sorrow.  
>  I want to wake up with it tomorrow.  
> But all we tried would be in vain,  
> If it were that easy to just walk away._
> 
> _Roots that run that deep,  
>  Pain that you don't see.  
> Anyone could look around,  
> Think all is well above the ground.  
> I could pull them up,  
> But they're all that's left...  
> And I'm not ready  
> To lose you yet._


	76. Tell Me What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Quinn have a talk, and spend a little time figuring each other out.
> 
> It seems to end mostly in a draw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Just location, y'all.

Quinn had his back to the door when Theron arrived at the medical bay, and so he stood for a moment, watching the other man. They were of a height, the two of them, and a similar build, though Quinn was perhaps a shade slimmer. His rigid bearing gave the impression of more height than he actually possessed, at least, usually. Right now, he stood with his gloved hands spread, resting on the bed in the center of the room, his dark head bowed. Theron could see the grey hairs interspersed with the black, and every inch of his uniform was spotlessly perfect. He couldn't remember the last time he'd managed to look even half that put together, and he'd never seen Major Quinn with so much as a hair out of place. It was enough to give a guy a complex.

Knocking at the door to announce his presence, Theron watched the other man's head come up. Quinn straightened his shoulders with a practiced, fluid motion, turning to face the agent, his blue eyes coolly meeting Theron's hazel. “Agent Shan. The Empress stopped by earlier and informed me that you had questions to ask me. Would you like to join me for a drink? The lounge for the officers might be more comfortable.”

Caught off-guard at the display of relative friendliness from a man who, up until now, he had only heard described by the most stick-in-the-mud terms by everyone who interacted with him or knew him, Theron blinked at Quinn, and then nodded. “A drink would be just fine. And you're right, it would be better than here.” He backed out of the doorway, turning down the hall as Quinn joined him, his hands tucked behind his back. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. I know it's an odd request.”

Quin's mouth quirked slightly, not quite a smile, but still an amused expression. “Not at all. I think I understand.” They turned in at the officer's lounge, a room outfitted with a small bar, several seating arrangements and sets of tables with chairs encircling them. At this time of day, they were the only ones present, and Quinn stopped at the bar, putting in a request with the droid behind it. Theron chose a seat, settling into the chair, one arm draped over the back.

A glass with a warm amber liquid was offered to him a moment later, held lightly in a black-gloved hand. Theron took the glass, giving Quinn a quick smile. “Thank you. Corellian?” he asked, swirling the drink briefly, one booted foot propped up on the opposite bent knee. 

“Hopefully that is acceptable. I wasn't certain if you have the same appreciation for spacer swill that the Empress has, but I don't have her cast-iron stomach, personally, and prefer something a little less capable of doing double duty de-greasing engines,” Quinn responded lightly, his clipped accent so similar to Selirah's to Theron's ear. Taking a sip of his drink, Quinn flinched almost imperceptibly, and Theron noted a freshly scabbed cut on the other man's lower lip, the skin slightly bruised around it. 

“Someone try to lay you out for some reason?” he asked, curious about how Quinn had obtained the cut, given that his current position did not call for much active duty that might result in any injuries.

A flush touched the Imperial's cheeks, and he shrugged one shoulder in a dismissive manner. “Alyxia. I was checking her arm to be certain it was healing cleanly, and she caught me accidentally with the edge of her gauntlet. It's nothing.” Quinn sat down opposite Theron, his body position as exacting as if he had still been standing at parade rest, back straight. It wasn't going to be easy to read anything from him, that much was clear to Theron. Quinn was so controlled that Theron privately was certain the man could have lied to him twelve times in the last two minutes and he probably wouldn't have caught a single one. He was relatively sure that the explanation was a lie. But not quite sure enough to call him out on it and not just end up being told a fresh lie that might be equally plausible.

Choosing to let the subject go and approach his reason for the meeting, Theron took a small, appreciative sip of his brandy before speaking. “I know that it's odd to ask this. But I realize that I understand little of the culture of Dromund Kaas, and almost nothing of Korriban either. I'm sure that you know very well that Selirah does incredible verbal gymnastics to avoid talking about her childhood or training,” he began, Quinn's attentive expression encouraging him to continue. “And there is no denying that the mindset of someone raised on Coruscant, or a Republic core world, is very different from that of someone raised on the Imperial worlds. I was hoping that you'd be willing to talk about your experiences with me, to give me a better understanding.”

“I can do my best, Agent Shan,” Quinn replied. “Though I'm not sure if you hope to gain insight into me, or the Empress, and there is a significant difference between the experience of someone like me, and someone who is Sith, particularly of her renown.”

“Does it have to be one or the other?” Theron asked, giving the other man an amused smile, relaxing further into his chair, his back slumped against the cushion behind him. “It doesn't seem unwise to me to understand you better, and perhaps get acquainted more than we have been in the past. And.. well.. I'm never against having a better picture of what makes Seli tick. Who could know her better than someone with your background with her?”

Quinn's reaction was subtle, but the flattery landed and Theron suppressed the urge to let his smile widen at the very faint way that the officer straightened, his chin lifting ever so slightly with pride. It was good to know that the man still had -some- typical reactions, at least. Perhaps it wouldn't be a fruitless discussion after all. “Military service is required, of course, of the force-blind and able bodied, and it is a matter of pride to serve with distinction. It elevates you, and your family and descendants, although the Empire is about merit and strength, so my children, for example.. would have no particular benefit from my association with the Empress when she was the Wrath, unless she chose to elevate them. We believe that the strong should lead, and the weak will follow. The Sith are the strongest, and so they lead.”

“You seem to feel that is an acceptable mindset to have, though. Do you really think that is a fair or merit-based system, if an accident of birth can elevate a nobody to the ruling class?” Theron asked, his glass held hanging lightly from the tips of his fingers.

“Is that not what your system does as well? If.. far less efficiently.” Quinn's tone shifted slightly, and Theron could feel the disdain in the clipped syllables, even if the man's face showed nothing but polite interest. “Rewards people for accidents of birth? If you had not been born the child of the people that you were, for instance.. would you have had the opportunities that you did? Would you have been so frequently forgiven for mistakes that would have ended another person's career?”

The words stung, in no small part because as Theron let himself really consider them, he realized that Quinn had a point. “Maybe not. In the time that you spent with the Alliance here, though, hasn't that changed your viewpoint about the Empire at all?”

Blue eyes widened briefly in unfeigned surprise. “Why would it change my viewpoint? Darth Marr's courage facing the Emperor, the Empress' power and determination.. even Lana's efforts to find and free her so that she could help to destroy the Eternal Empire... all that I see is more proof that Imperial excellence is what was called for in order to right a great wrong and imbalance in the galaxy. Without the Empress, do you think that your little coalition would have succeeded, or even stayed together long enough to make an impression upon Arcann's stranglehold? Do you think that Acina would have ever chosen to come to your aid without a Sith leading you? And the Republic.. where were they with aid?” Quinn chuckled softly, shaking his head and taking a leisurely sip of his drink. “No, I think you know as well as I do that there is merit in our system, even if it's flawed. The cream does tend to rise to the top, and she is where she is because of that fact.”

Theron absorbed Quinn's words, his brows furrowing slightly. “In her case, there's no argument. It's obvious that she's exceptional, but you can hardly say that the system treated -you- fairly based on merit, or strength. Selirah's assessment of your skills and talents is incredibly high. So is Lana's, and she is not prone to idle flattery at all, even in the best of situations. You are bright, talented, focused, efficient, loyal... but you languished on Balmorra, even with a Lord's patronage, until you entered Selirah's service. Then you had a meteoric rise, but in her service, you could not climb much higher without leaving her, which you chose not to do. Understandably, of course. But after she disappeared, why weren't you recognized for your skills? Why would someone like you be held back from deserving promotions?”

“There were many factors at play there, Agent Shan.”

“Theron, please.. I know that I still serve as an agent of sorts, but... just Theron is fine.”

“As you wish,” Quinn agreed, but the look of faint annoyance that touched the dark blue eyes was not missed by Theron. Lana had told him of the Major's incredible discomfort with using people's first names, particularly people that he viewed as above him in rank, so he understood what the look was about, at least. “But as I was saying, it was much more complex than simply being overlooked. In her service, yes.. I would not have been likely to continue to rise in rank much beyond where I was when she disappeared. But from a perception standpoint, there was almost nowhere I could have been where I would have had as much power and influence as I did while being in the service of the Emperor's Wrath. She was essentially outside of the traditional rank structure, and even above it, in many ways. The only one who was above her, in the eyes of the Empire, was the Emperor himself.” He shrugged again, lightly, sipping his brandy and then setting the glass on the table in front of him. “Even as, say.. a Moff, I would not have enjoyed the perks that I did in her service, or the ability to gain favors for family or friends.”

“In that case, let's back up from the ethics of the Empire.. you've made fair points, and given me something to think about, although I still feel there is a lot to criticize. Slavery, for instance.” Quinn merely arched a brow at the comment, but he remained silent, letting Theron continue. “I know you must have a family, but as close-mouthed as Seli is about her own background, she is even less talkative about you. Do you see them? Are you close? What is it like, once you go into the military? Does it change the way you view your family?”

Slowly, Quinn relaxed into his seat, letting his back contact the cushion and his stiff demeanor becoming easier, less defensive. He stretched one arm along the back of the chair, echoing Theron's slouch unconsciously, though his version of it was far less boneless than the agent's position. “I haven't seen them in a while, but that is not unusual in the military. Particularly in this case, during a long campaign,” he admitted, and his dark blue eyes moved away from Theron, growing unfocused with thought. “I was always a very driven person, even as a child. My family takes service seriously, and I learned very young to do the same. But if you think every Imperial family is distant or completely absent, that is not true. I love my family, and I have a good relationship with them. I have a younger sister, and my mother still lives in Kaas City, although my father is dead. My sister is a communications officer, and serves with distinction. I do speak to them regularly. Selirah's family situation, or the lack thereof, is distinct to her.” 

“Why? Is it normal to be completely severed from your family like that when you go into the Academy for training?”

“No, not .. exactly. But it's not atypical for aliens.” Quinn glanced at Theron pointedly. “I am aware of your Republic stance on slavery and the Empire's treatment of aliens, and there is no point in rehashing moral objections.” 

“Did you resent her? When you met her, before you knew her. Because she was an alien,” Theron inquired, setting his empty glass on the table before leaning back into his chair again. 

“I don't know.” Quinn's dark brows drew together briefly, knitting over the deep blue eyes and finely drawn, aristocratic features. “In all honesty... it was hard to get an impression of her at first that involved anything other than the power of her personality and the force of her presence.” A smile flickered across his lips, his expression softening with memory. “I only remember being more than a little tongue-tied when she was looking at me. And her eyes were intense, and beautiful. Of course I knew she was a Twi'lek... it's not as if I could have missed that. But I think part of me was lost in the first instant when I saw her standing there in my office, bristling with strength and looking at me with those big, violet eyes.” His attention returned to Theron's face, and he gave the other man a cool look. “I suppose you want to know about the betrayal?”

“No,” Theron said, more gently than he'd intended. Behind the pride, he could see the pain of an old wound that had never really healed, and he realized he had no desire to re-open it. “I don't understand, but talking to you has helped me see that there's a lot of disconnect between our viewpoints. It wouldn't do any good to bring that up, and it's between you and Selirah in any case.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his fingers folding together. “Arcann would not be so circumspect. He doesn't trust you, and he doesn't think Seli should, either. I don't think it's really about that, though. He just wants you gone.”

“I'm sure he does. And what about you? Do you want her to send me away?” Quinn regarded him calmly, his feelings tightly hidden away again. 

“Truth? I don't know. Arcann tolerates me. He's even fond of me, sometimes. But he wouldn't shed many tears for me if I was killed tomorrow. He'd have her to himself, and he would prefer that, and he's rarely subtle about it.” Theron smiled easily, one shoulder lifting in an insouciant shrug. “I know that about him. It doesn't change my fondness for him, which is much stronger than his for me. His devotion is focused solely on her. I see that same look on your face when you look at her and you think no one is watching. So... I'm not sure how I feel about this, yet. It's hard sometimes, living with Arcann and his possessiveness. I think it could be just as difficult to deal with you and your past with her. Sorry if that's not what you were hoping to hear, but I don't want to lie to you. I have a lot of concerns.”

Quinn nodded in response, thoughtfully. “I didn't anticipate even a lukewarm acceptance from either of you, to be honest. You have a dynamic between you that you've worked to cultivate, and it has no room for me, or my claims on her.. such as they are. As for Arcann, he is, as you stated, not subtle about his feelings. I know he wants me gone. If he thought he could get away with it, I'd expect to meet with an 'accident' at some point. It would be the best way to clear the path of obstacles.” 

Theron laughed, and shook his head. “No.. he thinks about it, I'm sure. But he wouldn't kill you. Not now. He doesn't like you, and he has no desire to know you, and he wants you gone. But Selirah made it clear to both of us that she cares for you. He knows it would cost him the relationship he values most if he did anything to you. Look, Quinn, I know it may not seem like it sometimes, when you see him lose his temper so easily; but Arcann has changed a lot. He's a different man. It's worth knowing him, if... if things change, and he decides he does want to get to know you.”

“He wants me gone. I don't think it will change. Not easily. I don't even blame him.” 

“Because you want us gone?” Theron hazarded, and managed to catch another brief smile on the officer's lips.

“It would make things easier if you were. Neater,” Quinn replied, direct and unapologetic. “I can't pretend it would distress me to have an open field. I have always respected you, Agent Shan.... Theron. And I respect that you would come to me and talk to me plainly. But don't forget our conversation. In the Empire, the strong supplant the weak. I don't intend to be supplanted.” He rose to his feet, and offered his hand to Theron.

Theron took the offered hand, and shook it, understanding that Quinn meant it as a courtesy between.. he hoped.. friendly rivals. “I won't forget, and I understand your meaning. You know.. I always knew on some level that she still hoped to find you again. Seli would never talk about you, or about her relationship with you. She can be very defensive about things that are important to her.” One of the serving droids came by, silently collecting the glasses and leaving a newly refilled one behind in front of Theron at his nod. He picked up the glass and sat back in his chair, looking at Quinn, with his coolly aloof face, his perfectly spotless uniform and erect carriage. “She says she won't send you away. Not ever, was her exact wording. But I think Arcann is willing to test that conviction. I haven't decided yet if I agree with him, or not.”

Quinn's expression changed slightly, his jaw tensing visibly, the muscles tightening beneath the pale skin. The threat had been subtly stated, but was a threat just the same, and all good Imperials understood that particular language perfectly. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging Theron's words. “Perhaps we can talk again, more often, and make our respective decisions with a broader understanding of each other than we have at present. I must return to work, but thank you for the drink and the conversation, Theron. It has been enlightening.”

“Yes, it has. Until next time,” Theron replied, raising his glass in a lazy salute. He watched Quinn leave, the other man's back as straight as the stick that Vette had often insisted was a permanent resident of his back end. But despite Quinn's reserve and caution, the conversation hadn't been a loss. Theron had learned more than he'd expected to, both from Quinn's reactions and his carefully cultivated lack of reaction at times. If the path forward was still unclear, at least he had a better picture of the man himself. 

But Arcann wasn't going to like what he'd learned, because there was no room for doubt that Quinn would not let himself be displaced again. He'd come to fight for what he wanted, and he wanted Selirah.


	77. Blank Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disagreement goes badly, as they often do. Theron and Arcann consider a new approach to their mutual problem.
> 
> Selirah, Pierce, and Quinn meet up in the medical bay.
> 
> Quinn asks a question of Selirah and gets an answer that he didn't expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Location, location, location. 
> 
> I changed the ending twice, but... I'm stickin' with this one. ;)

Theron could hear the shouting before he got to the room. Selirah must have gotten back from her meetings, and evidently, Arcann was in residence too. Pierce was standing outside the door, his thick arms crossed indifferently across his chest. 

“Not going to interfere?” Theron asked, bemused at the bored expression on the burly soldier's face.

“Ha. No kriffing way, Shan. But if -you- want to get in the middle of that,” he answered dryly, jerking one thumb at the door, “be my guest.”

“If I don't come out in five minutes, tell Vette that she can have my blasters. Provided they're still in one piece.”

“Will do.” Pierce gave him a companionable grin and slapped him on the shoulder so hard that Theron staggered. “Bob and weave. Bob and weave.”

“Good advice,” Theron replied mockingly, and opened the door, sliding inside and palming the lock behind him as the door slid closed. Selirah was in the middle of the room with Arcann, and as far as he could tell, they were just.. yelling at each other. About what, exactly, wasn't clear, but they were both too angry to pay much attention to his entrance. 

“You do not get to tell me what to do, Arcann!” she roared at him, and Theron could practically feel the anger rolling off her, even without being able to touch the force. “This is not a negotiation, and I don't have to account for my whereabouts to you!”

Arcann paced in a tight semicircle, his pale blue eyes filled with fury and frustration. He glanced at Theron, and his jaw flexed, the muscles jumping under his skin, both of his hands locked into fists. “It's always what you want. I've always shrugged off your indulgences, but I'm not going to do that, not this time. Not for this. I'm not going to let you just change the rules on both of us!” He wasn't quite yelling, but his voice was rough-sounding, angry, and Theron wondered how long they'd been shouting at each other to render Arcann a little hoarse. He had a feeling that the prince had lowered his volume due to Theron's entrance, and he circled around the couch, sinking down on it and watching them. “Now you don't even want to answer a simple question..”

“You're accusing me with your 'simple question', and I will not be accused. I don't have to tell you where I am every hour of the day. I didn't go out today, because it turned out I had too much work to do! Why is that a crime??” Selirah had no such compunction about her volume, and her hands came to rest on her hips, elbows out. From his vantage point, Theron could see her lekku twitching with her agitation, the tips twining and loosening. She seldom reacted so openly to arguments as she was right now. It was noteworthy, and he wasn't convinced that she was telling the truth, a belief that was justified a moment later.

“You're lying to me! You know that I'm going to know, and you still lie. Just tell me the truth. Tell both of us the truth. You didn't go out. So where were you instead?” Arcann snarled, and this time it was definitely an accusation, whether it had been or not previously. There was little doubt that Arcann had an idea of where she'd been, and what she'd been doing. Theron wished that he could see her face; with her back to him, it was harder to guess at her thoughts. He could see her inhale, and hold the breath, and he knew she was trying to decide what to say. 

Her fingers flicked out in a sharp, insulting gesture, a quick snap of the wrist, her slender hand cutting through the air. “You want me to tell you that I was with Quinn, so fine. I was. I stayed after I conveyed Theron's request, and talked to him for a while,” she said icily. “There was no time for the patrol, because I got several messages that required my attention, so I stayed here today and dealt with Nox's insistence upon coming to Iokath, and Lana's investigation.” Theron paid attention to Arcann's reaction, knowing that if she was still lying, he'd see it on his face first. But there was no reaction other than the already seething temper, his back and forth pacing remaining rhythmic, slow, like a trapped big cat. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I didn't mention it earlier because I knew you would do exactly what you're doing now, get jealous and upset with me.”

“You do these things, and you don't think about how it will look to us, or feel. You only think about what you want, Selirah! You can't be entirely selfish like this. When you..” Arcann stopped, and his pacing stopped, and he glanced at Theron and then away. Not back towards Selirah, tellingly, but towards the floor, frowning. “I have always indulged your moods and whims, Seli. I've let things go, because it didn't seem worth a fight to argue with you about it.” She glanced back over her shoulder, looking at Theron, seeming to notice him for the first time. Her shoulders tensed, and she shifted her position, moving so she could see both of them. “I'm not going to just let this go. Quinn is different. I know how you feel about him. I can't treat this like it's nothing!”

Theron knew there was more going on here than he understood. Some sort of masked subtext between them about something that they both knew, a secret. Something he hadn't been told. In reality, he knew that there were a lot of things that the two of them knew about each other that he couldn't understand. But this felt like a co-conspiracy, like they were deliberately keeping something important from him. 

“I don't want to talk about this,” Selirah began, and Arcann rolled his eyes, pointedly. “Don't give me that face. You've had your say. I'm not going to sit here arguing with you all night. You wanted me to do my patrol, so I'm going to do it now.”

“No, you're not. You're just going to go find him again,” he snapped at her, and she made a gesture that Theron knew was very insulting to Twi'leks, that for the sake of them all, he was glad Arcann seemed not to know how to translate. “He's not calling you out, so you would rather be with him than me. Us,” the prince amended, casting a guilty look at Theron. “You never want to deal with any fallout from your choices, Selirah, that's the only thing you're consistent about! Stay here and deal with it, talk to me!”

“Like -you- did, keella?” Selirah's tone was acidic, dripping with anger and disdain, and Theron got up, knowing it was about to go too far, that someone was going to say something they couldn't take back. He rested a hand on her arm, and she glanced at it, and him, her violet eyes shadowed and furious, masking poorly concealed hurt. “Theron..” she said warningly, her expression dark, lips tightening.

“I'm not blaming you. Both of you need to cool off, though. I don't want you to hurt each other.” Theron came between them, keeping his eyes on both of them carefully, knowing how quickly both of them could react when they wanted to. “Let Selirah do what she needs to do, Arcann. Keeping her here is only going to escalate things. And Seli, you need to consider what Arcann's said to you. He's not wrong; you're being reckless, and thoughtless. Don't let this situation drive a wedge between us all.” Quinn's words came back to him, about being supplanted; about the strong and the weak. The challenging look in his dark blue eyes. The satisfaction in his tone. His preoccupation when Theron had first seen him in the medical bay. The story he'd given about his cut lip. The many times Theron or Arcann had borne similar marks from Selirah's attentions. “Don't let it get out of hand.” 

He saw her expression shift minutely, a wary look coming into her eyes, and it felt like confirmation of his worst fear, of the thing he'd been warned about repeatedly since he'd first gotten involved with her. Sith appetites, Sith passions, Vette warning him about having realistic expectations, Lana's warnings, Pierce's veiled comments, Yariele's disapproving glances, Lyorek's mocking humor, Nox.. Nox's dismissive amusement on Theron's 'value' to a Sith. Lifting a hand to his temple, he rubbed carefully around the edges of his implants, feeling a needling headache start to blossom into life. 

“You can't seriously mean to just let her go.. to do what she 'needs' to do. You know what she's going to do. She knows too. We all do,” Arcann said incredulously. “You want to just send her straight to Quinn's arms? He'll be all too happy to take her from me. From us.” The correction came a little faster this time, but it was devoid of the guilty glance, which made Theron doubt the veracity of the first look. Had it been calculated? Offered to make him think that Arcann still wanted him as part of their relationship, or had he meant it truthfully? The headache intensified, and Theron closed his eyes, his brows drawing together at the pain. 

“I choose. Not you. Not Quinn. Me!” Selirah growled, stung by Arcann's words. Theron could practically feel the force of her anger pressing on him from so close, like a physical sense of oppression in the room, a roiling darkness that was only visible from the corners of one's eyes, and never there when one tried to look at it straight on. Her temper was practically tangible, building like a storm, and Theron knew it was beyond his ability to soothe it away. Arcann's insecurity was like needles, pricking her anger into a maelstrom. “If you want to blame someone, Arcann, you don't have far to look to see the culprit.” 

She was out the door moments later, and it shut behind her with a finality that Theron felt in his bones. From the stricken look on Arcann's face, he felt the same thing. “Pierce will go with her, Arcann. She'll be alright. You've got to let her leave. If you try to stop her now, she'll just fight you,” Theron told the other man quietly, rubbing his aching temples. “Let her cool down. She needs to think and she thinks best with that lightsaber in her hand.” 

He made his way to the bed, laying down, booted feet hanging off the end of the bed. Eyes closed, he felt Arcann's hands on his legs, tugging the boots off, then helping him get his jacket off. “I don't think it's a good idea, Theron,” the prince told him, a thread of worry in his deep voice. “She'll go straight to him. He gets to look like a haven from stress, never questions her, lets her do anything she wants. You can't tell me that you don't see it.” He stretched out beside Theron, his head propped up on his hand. 

“I see it. You're right. But cornering her isn't going to work, Arcann. We need a different strategy, if we want to keep her from falling into old habits, and away from Quinn.”

“We?” Arcann asked, a faint smile curving his lips. 

Theron nodded, stretching out comfortably and pulling the covers over his legs. “I spoke to him. He's bright, strategic-minded. Doesn't give much away, unless he wants you to see it. He means to have her back, no matter what it takes. He was feeling me out today as much as I was doing the same to him. He's not easy to read, and he understands her in a way that we don't... well, me, anyway,” he added wryly. “You have a bit of an advantage.”

“Not always. Not today. Not lately at all, it seems. She's pulled back so far from me.. I know it's my fault, too, part of it. I shouldn't have left, walked away like that. I should have stayed.” He cupped Theron's jaw carefully with his right hand, his thumb brushing over the skin below his implants, and rubbed in slow circles. Theron sighed in relief, the headache receding a bit over the course of several minutes of the firm pressure. “We need to do something about him.”

“We'll see. We need to see the lay of the land tomorrow, because today's a loss. But we can start fresh then. Just.. don't rush to jump to conclusions. She loves you.”

Arcann's hand stilled, and then resumed the patient massage. “She loves you, too. But she loved him first.”

Theron couldn't think of a response to that, so he just closed his eyes.

**Sith Empire Headquarters, Outer Defenses:**

Pierce was flagging, badly, and he looked as tired as she felt. But Selirah couldn't stop, hadn't been able to stop for several hours. It'd give the camp a lot of breathing space, she reasoned to herself. The time that it would take the Iokath droids to rebuild their forces and retake the space before the Sith Empire's gates would not be inconsiderable.

Both of them had been bruised and scorched, though their armor had held, and Pierce was limping from a hard glancing blow he'd taken across the knee from one of the droids she'd thrown aside during a concerted attack. It was time to call it a night, and she knew it. But her blood was still up, and she was still angry. Arcann had come close to telling Theron about Nar Shaddaa, and Selirah had no idea what she would have done if he'd let the information slip. 

“How's the knee?” she asked, and Pierce offered her a pained smile.

“It'll do. Quinn'll fix it up,” the soldier answered shrewdly, giving her an amused glance. “Things not going well at home, eh?”

Selirah shrugged, but her shoulders slumped a minuscule degree, and Pierce laid one large hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Not so well, no. I can't imagine that surprises you.”

“Not once Quinn was here to complicate things. I'm sure he's doing his part to keep it from going their way, though,” he observed dryly. “Don't try to argue. You know he's plenty clever enough for it.”

“Of course he is. But he's done nothing.. well. He's done nothing on his own that was worthy of reproach.” Selirah ducked her head slightly, and Pierce chuckled. “Oh, shut up. It's not funny.”

“It's a little bit funny,” Pierce argued cheerfully, still laughing as they boarded the tram back to the Alliance base, both of them slumping into the seats with the exhausted air of bone-tired warriors. “It still amazes me that he has it in him at all. Must be well-hidden under all that ice.”

Selirah gave him a sly look. “I see it just fine. Maybe you're not pretty enough to entice him, Colin.” Pierce snickered rudely, and she shoved his shoulder, ruffling one gloved hand over his close-cropped hair affectionately. “Even if he was goading them, it isn't the point. The point is.. Quinn is.. Quinn. I understand how they feel, but I can't just ignore that. I can't pretend there's not years of history, and a marriage. I can't pretend I don't care about him.”

“Of course not, but you could have kept your hands off, and you didn't. You knew it'd upset both of them, and you did it anyway, cause that's what you always do.” Pierce shrugged his broad shoulders, holding up a hand to forestall her complaint as the tram slid to a halt at their destination. “I'm not judging you, m'lord. Quinn and I understand something that they don't. But you have to remember that they don't understand. They're not from the Empire. It's not ingrained in them to know that Sith do as they like, and you got involved with them knowing they'd have different feelings about the things you do.”

She sat silently for a moment, and then nodded slowly, getting up and pulling Pierce to his feet with one hand. “I know that you're right. I'm not sure what I can do. It's done, and I don't want to go back to pretending that I don't feel anything for him when I do. And I won't send him away. I won't be threatened into it, either,” she said fiercely, and Pierce smiled at her, amused.

“I never thought you would, and they don't know you if they think you would. And looky there,” the burly soldier added, pointing down the ramp to the polished, perfect, dark-haired figure standing in the courtyard, waiting. “I guess you told him we were coming, eh? Asking for trouble, you are.” Quinn looked up from his datapad, and tucked it away in his belt before moving forward to take Pierce's weight from Selirah's shoulders. 

“When am I not asking for trouble?” Selirah said reasonably as Quinn approached. “Thank you for meeting us, Quinn. Pierce could stand to have that knee looked at, and I have a few minor burns and bruises myself, if you have time.” 

Pierce saw them look across his chest at each other, and rolled his eyes. “You two are going to have to try a little harder.”

“Harder?” Quinn inquired, his tone as chilly as Pierce had always remembered it being any time he spoke to him. But his eyes were fixed on Selirah, and hers on him, and the look in their eyes was so full of mutual heat that he felt a little uncomfortable even being in the middle.

“To hide that look you're giving each other. A blind man would see what's going on.” 

Lowering her eyes to the ground, Selirah kept her attention down the rest of the way to the medical bay. Once they arrived, she helped Pierce to sit on one of the beds, his leg propped up, and removed the plate armor guarding his leg and the heavy greaves on his feet, baring the badly contused knee. Quinn checked the swelling, carefully assessed range of motion, and went to get his supplies. Selirah perched next to him, with his bare foot propped up on her lap to elevate the injured limb. 

“It will be fine, and probably considerably better tomorrow. Limited duty for a few days, however, just to allow the swelling time to go down,” Quinn pronounced as he finished applying kolto and giving anti-inflammatory shots, wrapping the knee in supportive flexible bandages. “Ice it and rest. And Major Pierce..” he added, glancing sidelong at Selirah, but Pierce interrupted.

“There's no need to even say anything. M'lord doesn't question my loyalty, so you have no cause to either.”

“Of course. My apologies.” Quinn helped Pierce to his feet, and waved off Selirah's help with one hand. “I will help the Major to his quarters, then I'll be back to take care of your injuries as well, Empress.” The two men left together, the heavy form of Pierce dwarfing Quinn's slimmer build.

By the time Quinn returned, she was sitting at his desk, flipping idly through his log entries on his datapad. Her armor was discarded on the table at the side of the room, and she was clad in a soft shirt and padded leggings and boots. There was music playing, and he could hear her humming to herself along with it. “Did he tell you about the fight?” she said suddenly, without turning to face him, and Quinn approached her, examining the scrapes and bruises and faint burn marks he could see marking her arms and back before removing his gloves, laying them on his desk. 

“Not in so many words.” He smoothed kolto gel on each mark marring her skin, lingering slowly over each one. “But I know about it, yes.” She offered one arm, and Quinn treated the bruises and cuts, feeling her eyes on him as he did his job. He held back for several minutes, deciding if he should bring up the rest, unsure if it was better to leave the question unasked, but finally he spoke again. “Are you here because of the fight?”

Selirah looked away, and he finished with her minor injuries, the coolness of the kolto soothing away the aches, and speeding healing. “Does it matter?”

Quinn could hear the faint warning in the simple question, but at first, he put that aside in his consideration. Did it matter? He wasn't sure. Part of him didn't care why she was here, only that she -was- here. He'd waited for so long to see her again. Thought of her for years while he languished in Imperial prison for refusing to give up on finding her. Giving up an opportunity to get closer to her just because she was here out of anger didn't seem entirely wise. “It matters.” Quinn held in a sigh, knowing that it was true, however much he wanted to pretend otherwise. “I don't want to be revenge, Selirah. I want to be your choice.”

“I understand, Malavai.” Selirah got to her feet, pushing the chair back. The music shivered in the air around them, a soft, wistful song, and he stepped back from her, opening the path to the door, expecting her to leave. To walk away from him again, following the pattern that they had followed since he'd betrayed her. It was a crushing thought. “You should have seen the coronation party. Everyone in their finery. The drinks, the food, the dancing. It was quite an event.” She slid past him towards her discarded armor, and Quinn shook off his fearful paralysis, reaching out to take her wrist in one hand. He pulled lightly, and she let him tug her into his arms, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders, her violet eyes wide, meeting his gaze. 

“I saw all of the holorecordings. You looked beautiful, as always. Everyone wanted to dance with you at least once.” He held her close against him, and swept her into a spin, making her laugh. She bent back over his arm, and he leaned down, his lips close to hers. “I wish I had been there to dance with you again.”

“Like the parties in Kaas City,” Selirah breathed, her voice quiet at the memory. He could feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, and knew his was doing the same. The music spun around them, and Quinn couldn't look away from her, feeling enraptured by the sensation of her lithe body in his hands, her grace in his arms. He'd almost forgotten how well she danced, and how it felt to have her move with him in the steps. Quinn had never considered himself much for social situations; he was so reserved that he always found himself relegated to near wallflower status very quickly. But with her, he'd learned that parties had a certain charm. 

With the respected and feared Wrath on his arm, suddenly everyone had wanted to talk to him, and curry favor. Women had wanted to speak to him, to provoke a smile from the austere Captain who partnered the second most powerful Sith in the Empire. Men wanted to separate her from him, and he had found a certain satisfaction in watching her search the crowd for him with her eyes, and the suggestive looks she'd delighted in giving him while surrounded by favor-seeking socialites and military officers. He'd learned to love to dance, because with her as his partner, he felt as if he couldn't set a foot wrong. They made a handsome pair on the floor, and when they'd gone home after a night spent with their bodies pressed together on a dance floor, neither of them had been able to keep their hands off each other. 

It had been an indescribably happy time in his life. And now she was in his arms, and he could let her go as the song ended, watch her leave. He should do that, and Quinn knew it. Selirah looked as if she even expected him to do it. He spun her out away from him, and his hand gave a smooth pull, and she came back to him, her lekku twined loosely around her shoulders out of the way. She was smiling, but it was a small, sad expression, one that didn't touch her eyes at all. 

“You're going to tear her apart, Quinn,” Pierce had told him on the way to his bunk. “She can't let go of you, and she'll be heartbroken if either of them leaves her over this mess, and they'd be crazy -not- to leave her with you complicating everything. Why couldn't you have just left her alone?”

“I can't,” he'd answered, flatly and honestly. “It's just a chance I'll have to take.”

And another decision moment was in front of him, and all Quinn could see was her, and how much he wanted her, needed her back in his life. If someone was going to lose, it wasn't going to be him.

“Don't leave, Selirah. Stay with me.” Quinn's arms tightened around her, and he savored the feeling of her, remembering what it'd been like to sleep next to her, to wake up with her wrapped around him. “Come to my quarters with me.” He could see a million thoughts going behind the amethyst eyes, and anticipated the refusal that was surely coming. It was for the best anyway, he reasoned. It was the wrong time, she was upset. Slowly talking himself out of the chance of her taking him up on his offer, it took Quinn a moment to process her reply when it finally came.

“Yes. Let's go.”


	78. Willing To Take A Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn and Selirah spend the night together.
> 
> But her intentions aren't quite what they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Just that we're on Iokath and not dying of radiation poisoning. 
> 
> OR ARE WE? 
> 
> ... no, we're not. It's fine. I'm fine. You're fine. We're all fine.

Neatly arranged and sterile. That was the immediate impression of Quinn's room. It was small, with a bed, a desk, a chair, and a small equipment locker, and the bed was made to military perfection, with tight blankets and sheets tucked in firmly around the edges of the mattress. Nothing personal of note was visible anywhere; the desk was spotless, with nothing out of place, and not so much as a picture or holo image device on the surface. Selirah had always known that so many of his habits had been formed as a way to have some control over a hierarchy that enforced order and class system upon all of its citizens. But as she stood in the doorway of his room, looking at the emptiness of it all, she felt an unwelcome sense of pity and sadness that he should see life through the lens that he did. A life spent in exemplary, or nearly so, service.. and for what? 

“No.. you don't get to come in, yet.” She turned to face Quinn, and shook a finger at him teasingly. “I need a minute. So you can wait.” One hand pushed him gently, making him step back into the hall, a bemused and slightly uncertain look filling his eyes at the order. But he obeyed, and she closed the door, turning back to the room. 

Quinn paced uneasily back and forth in the hall. As always, Selirah's mind worked in.. mysterious ways, to his view, and he had no idea why she'd insisted that he stay out. He could hear noises from inside, his equipment locker being opened and rummaged in, desk drawers opening and closing. It was clear that she wasn't simply undressing, or anything so obvious as that. It sounded much more like she was snooping, incredibly. But there was nothing to find.. nothing.. well. 

Cursing under his breath, Quinn put aside his dignity for a moment and leaned against the door, trying to hear anything more from inside, but the sounds had stopped. It was completely silent inside, and he began to feel nervous. What if she'd found..?

The door slid open suddenly and he almost fell inside. She laughed at him, and caught his hand with her own. The very first thing he noticed, and it was impossible -not- to, was her clothing. The armor was gone, the lightsaber was gone. Instead, she was wearing one of his undershirts, the thin white material coming down over her hips and hiding almost nothing with her dark red skin and black tattoos very visible through the fabric. It was an incredibly distracting sight, but he had no illusions that it wasn't exactly what she'd intended with it. 

“Why, Malavai.. were you trying to listen in on me? That's shocking behavior!” Her free hand went to her lips, fingertips covering up her faux shocked open mouth, and he sighed out loud, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks as the embarrassment surged inside his mind at being caught eavesdropping like a teenager. “Afraid I was going to find something?” 

He could hear the sly note in her voice, and his shoulders sank along with his hopes that she hadn't found the small box that he kept hidden in his locker. At that moment, he realized that he smelled something odd and faintly acrid in the air of the small room, though the filtration system was already working to scrub it away. It was a familiar smell to anyone who spent much time around force-users, particularly Sith; the scent of something burned by a plasma blade. Quinn looked past her towards his desk, and saw the box sitting there, with the side neatly sliced open, the metal edges beaded up like it'd been set on fire, dripping onto the desk as it rapidly cooled. Her lightsaber hilt sat next to it, and his eyes flickered to her face, shock widening them. “You cut it open?”

“The bio-lock was keyed to you, and I couldn't open it. I wanted to see what was in it. Sorry.” she answered, not that she looked even slightly sorry. “I just.. I had to see. I'll get you a new one.” He stared from her to the sliced open box, and then suddenly began laughing. It was so typical of her. She could have asked him to open it, and he would have done it without question. But impatience and an overflowing sense of curiosity always got the better of her. Selirah wrinkled her nose when he chuckled at the destruction, giving him a surprised smile. “You kept everything.”

Quinn smiled, and keyed the lock on the door to ensure their privacy before he moved further into the room. “Why does that surprise you? Surely you haven't forgotten that I have a sentimental side,” he answered. He looked at the items laid out haphazardly on the desk, imagining her drawing them from the box one by one. Tickets to the opera in Kaas City. A rolled up scrap of paper with a sketch of Selirah leaning over a table while cleaning the components of her lightsaber, drawn by Vette years ago. A holo still image of them together on their wedding day with Selirah in Quinn's arms in a tight, lace gown, her head thrown back in laughter and a happy smile on his face. A small vial of kibo flower extract, emitting a faint sweet smell even while sealed. Another holo image of her petting a huge thranta on Alderaan, with her entire face alight with amazement. 

She picked up the holo image of their wedding, leaning a hip against the edge of the desk, her violet eyes flickering with the light from the picture. “I haven't forgotten anything.” Her voice sounded distracted, and she set the holo back down, her gaze focusing on Quinn's face. Crimson fingers slid up over his chest, and then downwards, curving to hook into the belt fastened around his waist. He could hear her open it, her wrist giving a quick, impatient jerk, pulling the belt free. Selirah folded the belt slowly into thirds, then fourths, and laid it in his hand. The look in her eyes was considering, and she looked him over slowly, unfastening his uniform, circling around him on bare feet, imperious hands sliding the jacket off his shoulders, down his arms. Pulling it free carefully so that it didn't dislodge the belt held in his fingers, she tossed the jacket onto his desk chair. Quinn's eyes closed briefly as her fingers trailed over his back, nails scratching lazily down his spine through the light undershirt, tracing idle shapes over his shoulders. Her lips touched his shoulder, hot against his skin, with just a hint of teeth, and he couldn't suppress a shiver of desire. Hands slid down over his ribs, and she pressed against him from behind, slipping her hands to the front placket of his uniform trousers, unfastening them, trailing hot kisses over the nape of his neck and the back of his shoulders. 

Quinn's pants went next, and then his boots, which he was astonished to note, she knelt to remove. His undershirt rode up on her thighs as she pulled each boot off his feet, and he drank in the unexpectedly pleasurable view of her doing everything for him, instead of vice versa. Something about her demeanor nagged at the back of his thoughts, but Selirah destroyed his thought process entirely when her fingers hooked into his briefs and drew them down slowly while she was still on her knees in front of him. He barely had a chance to draw breath before her mouth found him. 

Quinn's head fell back, and one hand gripped the back of the desk chair for support. Red lips closed around his cock, gliding slowly down over him as he thickened to his full length at her attention. Selirah's fingers closed around him, squeezing lightly, and she took her mouth off him, looking up over his flat, muscular stomach, his breathing making it rise and fall more quickly than usual. Her eyes moved higher, over his chest, and up to the sharp, handsome angles of his face, his lips parted on a shuddering breath of pleasure as her tongue flicked against the tip of his cock, teasing to watch his reaction. 

One hand traced up the outside of his thigh, nails gliding over his skin, and her mouth took him deep again, hearing his hand tighten on the back of the chair. Quinn's breath caught in his throat, and he almost let his eyes close, the heat and wetness of her mouth driving him crazy with desire. But he didn't want to look away from the sight of her – his beautiful, powerful Sith wife. So he kept them open, watching her, and relished the moments when her eyes lifted to meet his, feeling the connection between them. 

When she released him and got to her feet, Quinn slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him with the belt still gripped in his hand and lifting her up, his lips finding hers. He kissed her passionately, feeling her teeth brush his lip, though she didn't bite him this time, letting the kiss deepen. She wrapped her arms around him, her feet dangling a few inches off the ground as he held her against him. He felt her breathing hitch, making a soft, sad sound against his lips, but when he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her, there was nothing but need in her face and desire in her amethyst eyes. Quinn told himself that he was imagining things, letting himself get lost again in the moment and his love for her. 

His free hand slid the shirt she wore up over her hips, finding nothing underneath it but her skin, silky and warm against his palm. Cupping her rear with his hand, he sat down on his bed, and she straddled his lap, her mouth finding his again. Her hands were everywhere, caressing him, tracing his arms, and her fingers moved over his chest, then pushed him back onto the bed. She guided his arms up above his head, and he felt her take the belt from his hands. Selirah wrapped the belt around his wrists, sliding the end through the buckle and pulling it tight, making a loop around the leather in between his wrists. Then she tied it to the bed frame and brought her hands back down to his chest, sliding back on her knees so she was straddling his lower thighs. 

“Selirah..” Quinn started to protest, but she smiled at him, and he subsided, letting her look her fill. And she took her time about it, her eyes slowly gliding down the length of his torso, taking in the masculine beauty of his toned, strong body, the fine lines bracketing his dark blue eyes. Her fingers touched his hair, running lightly over the salt and pepper strands at his temples, then digging into the thick hair, pulling his head back, baring his throat. Selirah's lips brushed his cheek, leaving a kiss high on his cheekbone, over the two moles that marked the spot. She closed her eyes, and turned her head slightly, her cheek pressing against his, her lips leaving another kiss on his ear. 

“I love you,” he heard her whisper in his ear, and again there was that minute hitch in her breathing. But when she straightened, for a second he saw something in her eyes that made him uneasy, a kind of sorrow, or grief that was out of place in the moment. Quinn pulled at the belt binding his wrists, but her knots held firm, and that strange expression in her eyes was gone as if it'd never been there at all. Instead, she simply looked enraptured with him, her hands exploring every inch of his exposed body with lazy deliberation, taking as long as she wished. A smile curved Selirah's lips, appreciative of the enticing bounty stretched out beneath her. Bending to kiss his chest, her lips moved lower, and she bit his stomach to watch him suck it in in reaction, her lekku trailing down to brush against his hips. Quinn heard her laugh, and he couldn't help an answering smile from blooming on his own face, her enjoyment just as infectious to him as her desire.

Selirah's hand found his tautly erect cock, crimson fingers wrapping around him, stroking lazily before she slid forward on her knees, and Quinn let his hands rest in their bonds, watching her guide him inside her and then push down over him, slowly sinking down on his cock until he was fully sheathed. A groan of satisfaction broke from his lips, and he watched her hungrily as she began to move over him, her hips rising and falling with deliberate leisure. In no hurry just yet to reach her climax, or let him have his, the Twi'lek tensed her thighs, tightening the muscles inside her core and squeezing around him until he shuddered in pleasure. Her hips circled teasingly, hands resting on his chest, fingers spread. Head falling back, she rode him, enjoying the knowledge that he could look, watch, feel, but couldn't touch or control the pace in any way. His eyes were fixed on her, his lips parted slightly, breathing ragged under her palms. “Selirah, please,” Quinn managed, pleading with voice and eyes. “I need to touch you. Let me go.” Her eyes flickered, focusing slowly on his face, and she leaned down to kiss him. 

“I can't,” he heard her say, almost too quietly for him to hear, but despite her contradictory words, her hands went to the belt, loosening it. The moment the leather dropped away from his wrists, letting him slip his hands free, he took her by the waist, his fingers moving down to her hips. She let him take control, then, and her eyes closed, her hips meeting his roughly, the smooth rhythm giving way to a more uneven, hasty, demanding pace. Quinn thrust his hips up to meet hers, driving into her more deeply, forcing gasps of pleasure from her lips. Her fingers flexed on his chest, nails biting into his skin, and he rolled her over in one fluid gesture, bracing himself with an arm, hand pressed into the bed. Her legs wrapped around his hips, tightening, urging him into her, and he gave her what she wanted with long, deep thrusts, his hips grinding against hers at the apex of each thrust. Her hand closed around his wrist, and she bit her lip, muffling a cry as her climax hit her, bowing her back, her hips lifting against his. Quinn held on as long as he could, feeling her shudder under him in release, and then he let himself go, the pleasure of letting himself come inside her starting at the back of his spine, quivering through his body. 

Bodies entwined in the darkened room, Quinn felt sleep dragging at his senses. Selirah was still awake; he couldn't say how he knew it, because she lay still, her arms wrapped around him lightly, her breathing slow and even. Something told him that he didn't want to try to talk to her right now, some primitive animal sense, and so he let his eyes close, his body relaxing slowly into slumber. 

When he woke a few hours later, Selirah wasn't beside him in bed. A moment's panic set in, but then he saw her at the desk, sending something from his datapad. He watched her silently, saw the undisguised pain that was written on her face. Her cheeks were wet in the faint light from the datapad, and she put her face in her hands after she sent whatever message she'd been writing. Quinn's heart tightened sadly, watching her hunched shoulders beneath the lekku trailing down her back, but when she glanced at the bed – at him – he stirred as if he were just waking up, knowing that she would not thank him for having seen her at a moment like that. She wiped her face with her hands and flipped the datapad over, quenching even the minor greenish light from the screen. 

The bed dipped as she slid back in beside him, one hand moving down his stomach as her mouth found his in the darkness. “I love you, Selirah,” Quinn told her fervently, his words muffled a little by her kisses, but he felt her smile against his lips even as her hand slipped lower still, cupping against him intimately and making him groan in appreciation, stirring immediately in response to the touch. 

“I love you too, Malavai. Always.” Then there was no more need for talking, as her leg hooked over his hip and pulled him against her, impatient hands stroking him, teasing him into hardness so that she could feel him inside her again. 

He woke with a start a few hours later, just before he would have woken at his usual time, his body filled with pleasant lassitude, muscles lax with satisfaction. The bed was empty again, and this time he knew when he checked the room, it would be similarly empty. Selirah was gone, and all of her things were gone as well. A new, unkeyed biometric box sat on his desk, next to the ruined one, and all of his treasures were inside it; he checked when he rose to set the lock to open only with his genetic code. And a message light was blinking on his datapad, but he hesitated, not wanting to check it quite yet. 

Her behavior yesterday had been so unusual, even for her. If he was honest, even her decision to come back to his room with him had rang oddly in his mind, strangely reckless. The sadness that she had hidden from him. Her response when he'd asked her to free his hands, to let him go... _I can't_. Her tear-stained face when she'd thought him still asleep while she sat at his desk, sending something on his datapad. Somehow he knew that she hadn't slept at all, last night. Not even for a moment. As if something huge had been weighing on her mind. _Always.._

And the sense of foreboding that he'd had all evening sank into him like a weight, suddenly, as he opened the message on his datapad. As his eyes moved over the words, he found himself unable to process it all as one complete set of orders. Just fragments of sentences that cut like blades, gutting him alive. The incongruous thought came to him as he tried to read the words in front of him that it wasn't quite exile; that she'd kept her word.

_At the order of the Empress..._

_To Odessen on the next available transport..._

_Temporary reassignment..._

_Until further notice..._

_Looking forward to your contributions to Alliance logistics..._

_Without delay..._

Stunned, Quinn sank down in the chair, and the datapad, forgotten, dropped from his hands onto the desk with a clatter.

**Selirah's Quarters:**

The door slid open, and Theron opened one eye, shifting Arcann's heavy arm off his chest so he could see who was in the doorway. Selirah stood there, and there was a terrible expression on her face, one that he'd never seen before. There was no blood on her clothing, or he would have sworn that she was mortally injured. She closed the door, and went to her locker, putting away her armor and laying her saber hilt on the table next to the bed. Her fingers trailed over the surface of the bedside table briefly, and the grief and pain in her eyes was reflected in the liquid sheen of the tears that filled them. 

She looked at Theron, and for a moment, he felt like there was hatred in the violet gaze when they met his eyes. But the look was only there for a second, and he wasn't sure that he'd even seen what he thought he had. Instead, she just looked bone-deep exhausted to him now, and she sank down on the near side of the bed, pulling the covers slowly over herself. 

“Seli..” Theron started, his voice low so he didn't wake Arcann. “What's wrong?”

There was no answer. She just rolled over onto her side, presenting her back silently to both of them, and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me, guys. ;) 
> 
> This was actually planned if I went with the ending I chose on the previous chapter, and y'all do not know how much I dreaded posting this. ;) *puts on her helmet in preparation for the rotten fruit*
> 
> That Lucie Silvas got me again. Song is Villain. (Every version of the lyrics I found is wrong and has "I'll laid" or "I'm laid" for "I'm willing") 
> 
> Selections of lyrics below:
> 
> _I'm not looking for a kind word.  
>  I know, some things gotta hurt.  
> I don't expect a second chance,  
> I'm everything you say I am.  
> My reasons just seem to make it worse._
> 
> _..._
> 
> _Yeah, I'm willing to take a bullet,  
>  With my finger on the trigger,  
> I'll be the one to pull it.  
> I know one of us has gotta do it,  
> So I'll do it,  
> do it,  
> do it._
> 
> _... Oh darling, if you're looking, if you're looking,  
>  If you're looking for a villain,  
> I'm willing,  
> I'm willing._


	79. Hemorrhage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron tries to fix things, or at least not tank them. But something else is starting to fracture.
> 
> Arcann is fighting with his own internal feelings on the matter of Quinn. 
> 
> Selirah is looking for a distraction from that same matter, and thinks punching a giant droid god is the answer. 
> 
> Nox and Lyorek arrive from Odessen.
> 
> Nox takes a new assistant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Just geography. Galaxy-ography. 
> 
> Whatever.

Theron was at the workstation in the room when Arcann woke up. The prince stretched, sitting up slowly, and realized Selirah was in bed beside him, sleeping still. Her back was turned towards him, her lekku tucked forward over her shoulders. Something struck him as odd about the position, but it took a moment more for his tired brain to catch up and realize she was not sprawled out, taking up most of the space. Instead, she was curled up into a ball, her arms tucked up against her chest, knees bent forward. He got up, careful not to jostle her unduly, and dressed in the quiet room.

Theron got up to join him as he approached, and Arcann could see the concern in the other man's face, though as usual, reading him with the force was a hit or miss approach, and hardly worth the effort. “I found a personnel order this morning reassigning Major Quinn to Odessen, signed by Seli,” Theron told him, his voice pitched low. 

“That's hardly bad news,” Arcann replied mildly, one brow arching over his sky blue eyes. “It's what we wanted. I don't know why you look so bothered by it.”

“Yeah. I don't know about that. I don't know why she would have done it.” Theron shrugged, glancing uneasily towards the unmoving form in the bed. “And you didn't see her last night when she came home. I've never seen a look like that on her face. She was devastated.”

Arcann's expression didn't alter very much, but Theron could see him considering his words, at least. “She chose to send him to Odessen. It's not as if it's a punishment for him, and we can't second-guess her executive decisions without making it look like she doesn't know her own mind,” he said reasonably, but Theron rolled his eyes at the explanation.

“That's bantha shit, and you know it. How is this good? He goes to Odessen, she's miserable, who made her -make- that decision? If you don't see the astronomical odds that this becomes An Issue, I'll have to lower my opinion of your intellect.”

This time, the prince frowned in annoyance at Theron, but he glanced towards her still form too. “I see what you are saying, Theron. But the risk is worth the reward. He'll be gone. When he's no longer here, she'll get over the pain, eventually. She got over it before.” His shoulders lifted and fell, and he folded his arms across his chest comfortably, regarding Theron from calm blue eyes. “He at least be out of sight if he's on Odessen.”

“I don't think she ever got over it, Arcann. And this whole situation is about to blow up in all of our faces. Let's just... I don't want to wake her up. She's only been sleeping for a little while.” Theron pointed at the door, but before either of them could move to open it, Selirah's voice interrupted their exit. 

“You don't have to go on my account.” 

Theron and Arcann looked at each other, and Arcann shrugged. “You seemed like you need the rest, Seli,” he offered. 

“What I need is the team logistics coordinated for the assault on Tyth as soon as possible.” Her voice sounded completely normal. Calm, even. It rang false to Theron's instincts, but he wasn't sure it would be welcome if he tried to bring up the previous day's events. 

“It's mostly arranged. We're waiting on Nox and Lyorek's arrival since you greenlit it. The extra firepower couldn't hurt,” Theron replied, crossing the room and sitting down on the edge of the bed behind her. “They'll be here soon.” He scooted up further on the bed, sitting cross-legged, trying to find some way to bring up Quinn, without.. bringing up Quinn. “Seli..”

“Yes, I signed the order. Yes, I'm sending him to Odessen. No, I don't want to rehash it,” she interrupted. The eerie calm persisted; she didn't sound upset, or even interested. 

“Look,” Theron tried again, though he could see Arcann giving him the 'drop it' hand signal from across the room where he'd flopped onto the couch bonelessly, legs stretched out in front of him. “I hear you. But I don't want to give this time to fester and become some huge issue between us. I'm just trying to understand what happened, and I think it could be productive to talk about it. For all of us.” He waited, but she didn't move, and didn't say anything to him. “Selirah..” 

“Talk, then.” 

“Will you look at me?” he asked gently. Again, there was a long stretch of silent immobility, but then she rolled over and sat up, stuffing her pillow behind her back. “Thank you. I'm not going to try to talk for Arcann.. if he has something to say, he can say it for himself. But for my part, I know that I should have tried to talk to you about what I was feeling and thinking about the situation. I didn't do that.. and I didn't ask you how you were doing. We haven't been keeping up with each other the way we should, any of us.” Selirah's level of exhaustion was often hard to assess if all you had to go on was her face. The marks of sleeplessness were hidden by the tattoos that surrounded her eyes and drew attention away from the reality of her features beneath the stark lines. But the withdrawn look in her eyes was impossible to mask, and her usual easy smile was absent. She looked defensive, and Theron knew there was probably a lot going on beneath the surface with her that he couldn't see, and that she might not want him to view either. “I feel like I let my feelings about all of this get between us, and create a lot of pressure.”

Her eyes moved towards Arcann's silent form, but the prince seemed disinclined to join in the conversation yet. He folded his arms across his chest, his pale blue eyes meeting her violet gaze. “I'm not upset with you, Theron.” A muscle jumped in Arcann's jaw, one brow arching questioningly at her, and she sighed audibly, correcting herself impatiently, “I am not unreasonably upset with you. And I'm aware that this is not your fault. But let's not pretend that this isn't exactly what both of you wanted to happen.” Selirah turned back to Theron, tucking her arms under the blanket, pulling it up almost to her neck, the gesture appearing just as defensive to him as her expression.

Since he'd instigated the talk, it didn't feel like a good time to try to sidestep the truth, even if it would have cushioned the hurt for her somewhat. “You're right. I'll admit to that. I'm not going to try to act like I didn't want Quinn gone. I felt.. feel.. threatened by him.” Theron could see the faint surprise in Selirah's face, but she hadn't unbent at all yet, the blanket still nearly at her chin. “I should have understood how much he meant to you, but I didn't. You never talked about him. I wasn't sure how you even felt about him, or if you thought of him at all. He's not an easy man to read or get to know, and he's your husband. That's a pretty large prior claim on your affections. I couldn't see any way this could work with him around, especially with..” He caught himself before he finished turning to look at Arcann, but he doubted that she'd missed the gesture, either. “with other factors in play.”

Selirah chewed her lower lip, and her eyes dropped away from Theron's face. She seemed to be processing his words, or perhaps just deciding what she wanted to say in return. “I was trying to do something right. I hurt Quinn, and I did it deliberately, knowing he might not forgive me for it, because I thought I would lose you.” Theron folded his hands in his lap, keeping them still; she didn't seem like she wanted to be touched in any way right now, and he wasn't even sure if he wanted to do it to comfort her or himself, and the distinction mattered to him for a number of reasons. “Theron.. the truth is.. maybe I should. Maybe it would be better for you. I've tried to be a different person for you, but this is who I am. I don't think I can be anyone other than this. You're just going to continue to be disappointed in me. And I hate knowing that who I am hurts you.” 

Theron sat and stared at her for a moment, shocked, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Arcann got up abruptly, their collective unhappiness finally making it impossible for him to pretend indifference. He came to sit on the bed as well, taking up the space to Selirah's right and Theron's left, his legs folded cross-wise. “Seli, I don't think Theron is planning to leave you,” he interjected, picking up the thread of the conversation as if he knew Theron was utterly speechless. “You know how he feels about you, and the complications that we are facing are not insurmountable. And even though I know you're aware of my feelings on Quinn, I'm not ready to take a permanent step like that either. I don't want him around. I want him sent away. That's just the truth, and I'm not sorry for it. It doesn't mean that I don't love you. But I'm not sure how to take the idea of having to accept him in any capacity, because his presence -is- threatening to both of us.”

“We don't even know what he would think of all of this, Seli. He would rather just have you back.. he as much as told me that. So where would that leave us? With you pulling away until you were all but gone? Maybe sending him away like this isn't a perfect solution, but it feels more like you want to work things out with us than the alternative,” Theron said, forcing the words out through a knot of fear in his throat. His head hurt, he realized, and he rubbed his temples uselessly, his eyes aching. For a moment, he thought he heard another voice speaking, whispering something in his ear, but he shook his head, and the splitting pain that accompanied it distracted him from the strange sensation.

“My wanting to work things out with you has nothing to do with whether or not Quinn is here, Theron. And I sent him away, after telling him that I wouldn't. I did it in a way that he couldn't even argue against, because I knew he would obey official orders where a personal request might not have worked. I thought it was the best thing to do, for your happiness. And for my peace of mind.” Selirah's eyes closed, and she stretched back out on the bed, laying her head down on her pillow. “I was wrong, and hasty. I shouldn't have done it to him. But I'm not blaming either of you... it was my choice and I will find a way to deal with it. Now, you both have a job to do, and I am going to sleep for a couple of hours. Then I want everything ready to go. No delays. No excuses. I'm tired of having all of this hanging over my head.” 

Arcann slid off the bed, pulling Theron with him. The agent still looked like he'd been sucker punched, and he didn't even resist the hand around his wrist as Arcann took him out the door with him, pausing only to snag Theron's datapad from the workstation on the way past. He finally dug in his heels once they were out in the hall, refusing to go any further, ignoring the exasperated look that the prince gave him.

“I should...” Theron waved back the way they had come, trying to put together his scattered thoughts in a coherent manner despite the headache starting to throb behind his eyes. The headaches had been more frequent, lately, though he had always attributed it to lack of sleep and too much stress, with everything that was weighing on his mind and threatening their Alliance. And now, with this too.. that's surely all that it was. Stress. “You shouldn't have let her... you know we're not prepared for this assault, yet. Without the information on the traitor certain, we could just be walking into a carefully tailored trap. She's not ready for this, either.” Theron squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and felt Arcann's hand at his elbow, steadying him.

“Are you alright? Is it a headache again? You need to go to …” the prince's low, rumbling voice paused, and then with a trace of humor, finished, “the med bay, see if they can determine what is causing this. It's the fourth bad one this week.”

“I know. But there's no time right now,” Theron argued, drawing in a short, sharp breath as a stabbing pain went through his temple. 

_Sith are notorious in their appetites, and powerful Sith do whatever they wish, with whomever they wish._

He looked around, his eyes half-closed against the brightly illuminated, reddish tinted hall lights. “Did you hear that?” Theron asked, confused. “A woman's voice. I remember it from somewhere.”

Arcann's expression changed, worry replacing his impatience as he looked at Theron cautiously. “There was no voice, Theron. Are you sure you really heard it? There's no one here but us.” Directing Theron against the wall of the hallway, he waited beside the other man, his light blue eyes watching the pained tightness of Theron's jaw, the thready flicker of the pulse in his throat. “Maybe you should get some rest. At least go to the medical bay, and let them check you over. You can't expect to go on this mission if you can barely function, and it wouldn't be even slightly safe for you to face that droid in this condition.”

Theron blinked slowly, his eyes focusing. For a moment, his eyesight blurred from the stabbing pain in his head, and he saw a woman's form, ghostly, overlaid on Arcann's white-clad body, her face scarred, with bright, mad eyes. She was holding a featureless mask in one hand. He saw her lips move, but in that moment, he knew he was hearing the words in his head. His mind supplied a name, Darth Cynera, but the memories were strangely fragmented, and distressingly vague and confusing.

_You're tainted now. Spoiled. She'll see my touch on you every time she looks at you. She'll never want to touch you again._

He closed his eyes, rubbing them with one hand, and when he opened them again, he only saw Arcann, watching him uncertainly. “You're right. I'll go to the medical bay.” Straightening, he took a few steps, but the pounding in his head made him feel nauseated. And so did the words he'd heard, though he couldn't think of when he'd first heard them. “Come with me?”

“Nox is coming in soon.. but she doesn't need to be escorted. There's only so much trouble even she can get into from the spaceport, and Lyorek is with her. I'll go with you to medical. Maybe they'll be able to figure out why you keep getting these migraines.” Arcann touched his elbow again lightly, his hand cupping Theron's arm for support as they headed towards the medical bay. 

**Iokath Spacedock:**

Quinn slung his pack over one shoulder, waiting patiently as the shuttle disembarked. Some part of him had hoped that Selirah would stop him, or that someone else would come to tell him she needed him to return. That she had made a mistake. That she hadn't meant to ship him to Odessen. 

But here he stood, and no one had come. She hadn't even been seen all day, and he privately thought that the odds were high she was hiding from even the chance of seeing him before he left. 

Two hooded, black-robed figures came down the shuttle ramp, both wearing dualsaber hilts at their hips. One was tall, with the red skin and black markings of a Zabrak, and the other was short and delicate beneath her finely made robes. They passed him, talking to each other in low tones, but as he turned to step onto the ramp himself, he heard a sweet, feminine voice beside him. 

“I remember you. Quinn, isn't it? Lyorek..” the smaller of the two said imperiously, snapping black-gloved fingers at the Zabrak, who came back at her bidding. “Isn't that Selirah's Quinn? Whatever are you doing here? Are you leaving?”

“Major Quinn, yes,” Quinn answered hastily, glancing at the shuttle. The pilot was standing on the walkway, waiting, a tall, handsome woman with white-blonde hair caught back into a ponytail, but she didn't seem inclined to interrupt his conversational companions, which made him take a second look at them. The Zabrak didn't look familiar to him, but the human woman.. She tilted her head back, and her heavy hood fell back enough for him to see the doll-pretty face framed by blonde hair under it, with large blue eyes and a venomously sweet smile. “Darth Nox,” he added as he recognized her. Snapping to attention, he bowed to the delicate blonde woman, and her smile widened a trifle, reminding him of a hunting nexu cat. 

“Oh, you can't possibly be leaving, Major Quinn. All the fun is about to start!” she protested.

“My apologies, my lord, but I have been assigned to Odessen specifically by the Empress. I am due off planet even as we speak.” 

“Nonsense. What can you possibly find to do there that wouldn't be far more interesting here?” Nox said cheerfully. She patted the Zabrak's arm absently, then held out her hand expectantly. The taller Inquisitor placed a datapad into her gloved hand with the ease of long practice, and she began flipping through reports. “I see, here it is. Oh yes, this is drivel. What'd you do? Pissed off the prince, no doubt. I can't imagine he liked you. Not one bit. Our charmingly nosy Shan probably wasn't too excited to see you either.” Deceptively guileless blue eyes followed the sour expression that flickered across Quinn's face, and she smiled coolly. “There,” she said, an air of triumph about the word as she handed the datapad to Quinn. He looked down at it, seeing the paperwork shifting him to Nox's reclamation detail for a period not less than a galactic standard week, and not more than thirty days before the initial transfer took effect again. 

“I don't understand.. you want me to help you with research?” Quinn asked, baffled at the sudden shift in his travel plans and feeling quite certain that there was something much larger going on than he understood. Sith politics had always been convoluted, and while he understood that Nox had joined the Alliance, he wasn't foolish enough to assume that it meant she was wholly devoted to the cause. This felt like an obvious attempt to cause a confrontation, and he certainly didn't want to be a gamepiece in the middle of two Sith ever again. “Here, on Iokath? That's not really my area of expertise, and I can't … my lord, it's quite impossible for me to remain here. The Empress...”

“Nonsense,” Nox said again, this time a little sharply, and Quinn fell silent immediately. “I only delayed the order, I didn't contradict it. It's perfectly above board. Re-allocation of valuable resources.” He could feel the Zabrak's red-gold eyes on him, and cast an uncertain glance at the other man, seeing him drop one eyelid in a rather boldly suggestive wink. “I didn't bring Talos, and I need assistance. Lyorek will have quite a bit of work of his own. I'll smooth it all out with Selirah, and I'm sure my business won't take long, so you'll only be here for a -tiny- bit longer. What's the worst that could happen? Other than all of us being massacred by huge, angry droid gods. Now. Come along, Major. You can carry my bag.” 

She swept out of the door, and Lyorek followed her, leaving Quinn to trail behind after picking up the heavily-packed rucksack that lay on the floor. The thing weighed more than Nox probably did, but he hefted it over his shoulder by the straps without complaint, following the two Sith as they headed for the tram site. 

The pilot watched them all go, before shrugging indifferently and heading up the ramp to prepare for the trip back to Odessen, minus one vital passenger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, this one fought me and I'm not happy with it because it feels a little rough, but I can't look at it anymore. So I'm going to live with it. My feelings won't be hurt if you agree. ;) I'm just out of juice to keep messing with it.
> 
> Personal Spoiler Alert: 
> 
> I'm likely to be slow with the next updates. I've had an elderly dog declining for some time and it's time to do the necessary thing this week, because I'm hand feeding him and he's still losing weight and just doing poorly, can't take his meds anymore, or eat his prescription food for his kidneys. I got him when my daughter was in preschool, before she went to kindergarten (She'll be driving in a year.. idk where the time goes). It's necessary, he's not doing well and he's pretty old for his breed. But I'm feeling pretty crappy about it even though it's for the best. 
> 
> His name is Quinn. So. Yeah. (It's coincidental. I got him before the game. But kinda extra sad while writing.)


	80. Caught In The Undertow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah is ready to pick a big fight to distract her from her problems.
> 
> Arcann tells Selirah about Theron, but she's not convinced Nox should be consulted.
> 
> Nox is pretty amused by herself. 
> 
> Lyorek is hoping no one notices him. 
> 
> Quinn smells a rat. It's a rat named Nox.
> 
> Selirah pulls rank on Theron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Yep, that's where we are.

Opening the door to their quarters, Arcann half-expected to find Selirah still asleep, buried in the blankets and marinating in her anger and misery. She wasn't present in the room, though, and the bed was made, with a heavy mask laying on the top coverlet of the sort that he'd seen other Sith wear in battle. It had a single strap at the top, and two side straps that would all come together to fasten at the back of her head, and picking it up, he realized it was made specially for her, with the straps angled and lightly padded so that they would not pinch or irritate her lekku. 

Her lighter armor lay on the floor, and he checked the 'fresher, but she wasn't there. Their bond felt muted, and not for the first time, he wished that he had done things differently when he'd arrived here. Their relationship had not returned to normal since their fight, and she had been guarded with him ever since. Even now, with whatever was going on with Theron unresolved, he wasn't sure how much he could tell her, or what she would even listen to if it came from him. 

The door opened, and Selirah entered with Kasseri and Alyxia. Arcann saw Torian out in the hall, leaning against the far wall, his rifle slung over his back. The Mandalorians being in full armor was hardly a surprising sight, but he realized he'd never seen Selirah in armor this heavy. The plating was substantial, with broad shoulder pauldrons and a solid, moulded and sealed chestplate cinched to full back plate. He could see the armor was made to administer pain control, stimulants, and even kolto while she fought, keeping her going beyond her normal endurance if necessary through artificial aid. Her saber hilt hung from a plain, sectioned belt around her hips, and her legs were encased in heavy dark plating and tall boots. Full, neatly jointed gloves bore heavy spiked claws across the knuckles, and her robe was short-sleeved and thickly woven, with a substantial and deep hood with twin openings in the back neatly edged in silk for her lekku. 

The entire set was matte black, with gold accents, and Arcann realized belatedly that he'd been staring at her, and that not only had she noticed, but so had all of the Mandalorians. There was metallic snickering coming from Kasseri's helmet mic, Torian had a smirk on his lips, and even though Alyxia was as silent as usual, he felt certain that she was amused behind the T-visor of her dented and blaster scored helmet.

She walked past him, the worn edges of the robe rippling around her heels with each step, and he could feel the weight of her emotions, dark and oppressive, against the edges of his mind as she plucked the helmet from his hand. “Everything is ready?” Selirah asked impatiently, laying the mask on her face, fastening and tightening the straps. Gloved hands lifted her hood into place, settling the folds around the blank, fixed planes of the battlemask. It was the only ornate piece of armor that she wore; the metal engraved with sharp, elegant patterns that reflected the tattoos on her skin to his eyes as he watched her arrange her slender lekku through the gaps in the hood so that they were free from the fabric to lie down her back to her waist.

A part of him understood why Selirah didn't wear such intimidating gear on a regular basis; she didn't -need- the protection in most cases, and preferred the easier mobility of lighter plating and armoring. But more to the point, the sight of her was viscerally disturbing even to him, and he knew that some members of the Alliance might have hesitated before throwing their support behind someone who looked like she did right now, regardless of her actions. Selirah was surprisingly adept, for someone that had mostly spent all of her time moving from battle to war and back again, at understanding how appearances could make a difference in how people perceived her, and Indo Zal's hard work with her after her coronation had made her even more careful about appearing -too- much like a full Sith to her people. It felt significant that she'd chosen to wear something like this now, when she was being challenged and jockeying for ownership of the riches of Iokath. It was a statement of some kind, but he wasn't sure if he understood the nuance beyond the fact that she looked brutal and dangerous. 

“Yes,” Arcann replied, still unable to pull his gaze entirely away from the image of her in the full armor of a seasoned, veteran Sith warrior. “There were a few hitches, but everyone is ready and waiting in the courtyard. There is one matter, though, that I wanted to talk to you about.” 

“Is it important?” The blank mask turned towards him, her voice sounding slightly altered through it, cold and mechanical. One gloved hand lifted, two fingers pointing towards the door. Alyxia and Kass exited a moment later, and the sound of Mando'a trailed behind them as they talked to one another, Torian joining them. All three disappeared down the hall, heading towards the courtyard, leaving Arcann and Selirah alone. “If it's not vital information that pertains to the mission, it can wait until afterwards,” she said dismissively, her eyes shadowed in the mask.

“It's about Theron.” Arcann felt the weight of her emotion lighten at the mention of Theron's name, and change, a trickle of concern touching his senses. “He's been having headaches, lately. You know that. But they've been pretty bad, and today he said he heard someone talking, whispering.. but there was no one there, no one but me. He seemed kind of shaken, and confused. I wasn't sure what to do, other than take him to the medical bay. But they didn't have any insight, really.. they treated his headache, and his nausea, and he's feeling better.” Arcann leaned against the corner of the workstation with Theron's computer terminal and slicing equipment scattered over it, one hand idly reaching down to spin a computer spike in circles. “I just think it might be wise to have someone else look at him.”

“Someone like who? Yariele could check him over, I suppose. Are you certain he's doing better? Should he be pulled from the mission? If he's not feeling well, he should stay here. This is going to be touch and go as it is, Arcann. It'd be a lot tougher without him, but I can't afford to be dividing my attention, either.” The response sounded cold, but he could feel her worry pulsing through the bond, and knew she was probably weighing the same thing he had – whether or not she'd be able to expend extra effort to defend Theron if something went wrong with him in the middle of a difficult fight. 

“Yariele would be of help, of course. But I was thinking that perhaps Darth Nox might be a better choice,” Arcann replied heavily, his blue eyes filled with concern and uncertainty. “I'm worried that this has to do with her ritual. She did say it might not be permanent, that it could fail, and you know Theron's mental defenses are not insignificant.” He had no need of being able to see her face to sense her disapproval at the idea as it flooded the constricted layers of their bond.

“I don't want to give her access to Theron again. I'm not convinced her motives were acceptably safe for him even the last time. If it hadn't been necessary to rid him of the pain he was experiencing, I would never have allowed it in the first place. He was so determined, and I could not say no to him under the circumstances. Nox is brilliant, and highly skilled, but she is ambitious and manipulative. If I were her, I would not have turned my back on such an opportunity, and she is, I admit, far beyond my capabilities when it comes to playing a long game.” She paced back and forth, cursing softly to herself. “This decision, it has to wait, Arcann. If he cannot come with us, he can help run the mission from here. But I cannot let this situation escalate, and we have no idea when the other droids will awaken and join with Tyth. We would be overrun, and everyone would be killed, if more than one of them decided to strike. I'm sorry. I have to prioritize the mission.”

Frustrated, Arcann still had to admit to himself that she was entirely correct. If the force they had gathered might not be sufficient to subdue Tyth alone, facing several or all of the droids together would be a bloodbath. “You're right. I'm just concerned. You didn't see him. He was nauseated by the pain, and he seemed.... he wasn't himself. Something is wrong. He tried to make me think it wasn't that bad, but I know he was trying to hide the truth from me.” 

“Can he fight like this? We could use him, truthfully. But if he can't do it, we'll have to draft some more soldiers to fill in.” 

“I don't know. He seemed better, earlier. He may be alright, but the headaches are becoming more frequent, and persistent, and I'm worried about the fact that he's hearing things along with them now. We'll check in with him before we head out on the mission, and see if he looks ready to handle the fight.”

Selirah nodded, turning away to head for the door. “And speaking of which, we need to go. It's time, and there's very little padding built into the schedule for arrival. I don't want to give that thing time to prepare for us, or to bring friends,” she said dryly, and Arcann fell in slightly behind her, following her down the hall and out into the base. “Did you meet Nox at the docking port?”

“No, I was with Theron, but she and Lyorek arrived fine and checked in. They were armoring, last I saw them... well, I saw Lyorek, anyway. He blew a kiss at me,” Arcann added in an aggrieved tone, and Selirah chuckled briefly at the thought. 

“Better he likes you than he doesn't. His enemies don't see him till it's too late. You get kisses and flirting.”

“I'm not always convinced that's better than a lightsaber in a dark alley.”

“I'm sure he'd be happy to give you whatever you wanted in a dark alley, if you asked,” she said mockingly, and he slapped the back of her heavily armored shoulder with one hand in reproach. It barely moved her, but he could sense her faint amusement. It was brief, though, and quickly quenched by the presence of her pain and the low, seething weight of her anger. He could feel her husbanding the burn of her frustration and loss, and knew she was thinking of Quinn, and worrying about Theron. But she always channeled such things into her own power, refusing to waste them if she had to be consumed by them. 

Nox was waiting out in the Alliance control center, bereft of her usual heavy robes and instead clad in light armor and boots with shin and thigh plates built into their construction. Lyorek sat slouched in a chair nearby, spinning it idly in circles with one foot, the other tucked up under his robes. The tall Zabrak looked like a sullen child who was waiting to be told to stop fidgeting, and as if on key, Nox shoved him with a foot as he spun around again, pushing the chair into a railing where it tipped ominously but then settled back onto the wheeled feet. “Have some dignity, Lyorek. Your Empress is present,” she told him, giving Selirah a sly smile, her huge blue eyes full of laughter. “My assistant is bringing my mask and robe, but otherwise, we stand ready. I do hope you won't mind, but I had to appropriate one of the Alliance officers to fill the role as Talos is currently on Yavin doing some excavations.” 

“I don't care, Nox. I'm sure it will be fine, as long as you don't pull them away from their work for too long. It wasn't someone mission-vital, I hope. We need the technicians at their posts.” Selirah was grateful for the mask – it kept her irritation from showing as easily. Nox was always prodding at weak spots, and it was tiresome at the best of times. Right now, when she had no energy to spare for the Inquisitor's mind-games, it was purely annoying. 

“Not mission vital, no. Perhaps I'll bring him along on the mission. We could use additional hands, and he's quite sharp with blasters,” the Inquisitor offered helpfully, and Selirah shrugged, the weight of her armor making the gesture a subtle shift.

“Whatever you'd like, Nox. It can't hurt. Excuse me, I need to speak to Theron.” Excusing herself, Selirah left, catching sight of Theron with the technicians at the workstations in the next room.

Arms full of the neatly folded black robe that Nox had requested, her mask laid exactingly atop the fabric, Quinn approached the diminutive Inquisitor, his dark blue eyes shifting uneasily towards the disappearing form of Selirah. “Here are your things, Darth Nox,” he began politely, handing the mask to her first. Nox slid her mask onto her face, hiding the delicate features from view, though Quinn could still see the gleam of her blue eyes in the squared eye openings as she strapped the protective mask into place. She shook her head back and forth, checking the fit, and he almost smiled at the image she presented. 

Lyorek openly laughed, remarking, “You look like a wet akk dog, Nox.” 

“And I'll still be a pretty akk dog even if that thing catches me in the face. Can you say the same, Lyo?” she asked, sweetly. “Would it be so easy to smile your way into all those beds with a crushed cheekbone? I think not. Maybe you should wear one too.” She shrugged into her robe, settling the lightly armored shoulders into place, the heavy, fitted sleeves tucked around her elbow length gloves. “You'll be attending, Major, so be prepared to fight if necessary and treat the wounded afterwards. The Empress extended her acceptance of my alteration of your assignment, by the way.”

Quinn eyed her doubtfully, well aware that it was unlikely that her words were entirely true, but he merely nodded crisply. It did not seem wise to question a former Dark Council member, particularly one rumored to be brutal in combat, and he knew Selirah too well to think she would have received the news that he was still on planet that calmly right now. What he didn't understand was why Nox was concealing his presence, unless there was a reason she wanted to reveal it at the right time. “Of course, my lord. I assume you mean for me to go with the support team, rather than the strike team.”

“Exactly so. You anticipate my orders quite well, Major. How efficient of you.” Her masked and hooded face turned towards Lyorek, and the Zabrak rolled his eyes openly at her. “What? It's true. If all Imperials were this valuable, we wouldn't have been fighting against the Republic for so long without a victory. Quinn,” she said, turning back to him abruptly. “You should be promoted. Shall I recommend you for one? Think about it before you answer, because I sense your uncertainty, but I know your loyalty is unquestionable. Now, anyway,” she added, venomously, watching his face whiten, and then slowly flush red with embarrassment. “Rank has its privileges. You could not so easily be shifted around, if you were higher ranked. You would have more say in your postings. So don't refuse out of hand. Give it some thought. I can be a very useful friend.” She fell silent, but Quinn knew she had meant for him to understand that she could also be a very terrible enemy. 

“He had best join the support group. If he stays here..” Lyorek said in a bored tone, his red-gold eyes flicking towards the empty doorway that Selirah had disappeared through. 

“Of course. Do go ahead, Major Quinn. Thank you for bringing me my gear,” Nox said dismissively, waving a gloved hand and giving Quinn no option but to bow and do as he'd been ordered, feeling the familiar hand of unease grip him at the sensation of being a gamepiece to the Inquisitor.

Theron was bent over a desk, talking to one of the former Republic techs about sensor deployment when the woman glanced at the doorway, a nervous look crossing her face. “I think she's here for you,” the tech said, and Theron looked up. It took him a moment to not feel just as uneasy as the technician clearly did as he took in the Sith warrior waiting just inside the door, featureless mask gazing at him. If it hadn't been for the crimson and black lekku trailing down her back from the rear of her hood, Theron wasn't sure he would have known it was Selirah.

He crossed the room to her side, guiding her over to the quieter corner on the opposite side of the room so that the techs could go back to work. “I think you might be able to just scare Tyth to death. You nearly scared that tech to death as it was. I think she thought Malgus had come for her.” 

“Malgus was much larger than me. And human. And he did not wear a full mask, only his respirator,” Selirah corrected absently. “Theron, Arcann is worried for you, and so am I. Perhaps you should remain behind and oversee the mission from here. If you had another of those headaches during the battle, you could be badly hurt. I'm not sure if I could defend you and still keep that thing focused away from the others.” 

“And I'm not sure that I like the idea of you keeping that thing focused on you, but I know that you have a job to do, like always, and that I have to let you do it. You will have to do the same, Seli,” Theron told her gently. He looked well enough to her eyes, but perhaps a little tired. “I'm grateful that you both care and are worried, but you know that we need all hands on deck. I don't want to leave you both to face Tyth without me.”

“If we are watching out for you, Theron, we may not be able to defend ourselves as efficiently,” she pointed out mercilessly, watching him wince in response. “Everyone has to be at full capacity, and I don't think that you are. Not after what Arcann told me about this morning. It isn't as if you would not be equally important to our success if you were here coordinating our efforts. Lana would be the first to say that you do just as good a job at mission coordination as she does, and she isn't here.” Theron's shoulders drooped slightly, but he nodded slowly a moment later.

“Alright. You're right. The meds they gave me helped, but I can still feel that headache in the back of my skull, waiting for the pain medication to dissipate. I'll stay here, but I'm going to be in direct contact with you and Arcann, and I'm going to link a visual feed to Alyxia and Kass' helmets.. it'll give me a better view when necessary.” He took her hand, wishing vainly that it was her skin and not the heavy black-matte armor of her gauntlet, looking into the featureless empty stare of her mask. He could see her beautiful violet eyes behind the mask, meeting his gaze. “Be careful. If it goes sideways, get out of there, or I'm coming in to get you.”

She laughed, the sound odd from behind the mask, but still familiar to his ear, and Theron smiled. Some of the pain and hurt from the last few days eased in his mind, but he knew there was still a lot of things in the way of their relationship returning to normal. He hoped Arcann was right, and that she would eventually get over her feelings for Quinn with the man out of sight off planet. But part of him knew it was a fruitless hope – the Imperial officer had shared too much of her life to be erased so easily. He'd been apart from her for nearly a decade, and she'd left him of her own accord that time. But the moment they'd seen each other again it'd been like watching magnets, drawn irresistibly back together, and he had to wonder if she hadn't been in carbonite for five years whether she'd have returned to Quinn's side earlier, of her own volition. There was so much there that he didn't understand. He wished he'd had more time to talk to Quinn; to understand how he just accepted.. everything. The man was gone, but perhaps he'd have the opportunity again, and Theron would ask all the questions that he needed answered.

“I'll be careful,” Selirah told him. “Theron.. I'm sorry that I upset you.” She hesitated, starting to turn away, and then added quietly, “I love you. I'll see you when we get back.” He held her hand a moment longer, then let it go, watching her leave.


	81. Break Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyth bashes stuff. 
> 
> Selirah sees something unexpected. 
> 
> And it begins to become clear to her that her road forward could end up a very lonely one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Well.. I'll be honest.. the fight isn't even as interesting as I tried to make it. It's a pretty straightforward tank and spank with adds. 
> 
> But Tyth's dialogue -is- from the fight dialogue. I watched numerous playthroughs for accuracy. 
> 
> It was tedious, but I'm all about that accuracy and I don't do Operations. But that was why there's never been a better time for some old school Limp Bizkit as a title. ;)

Getting to Tyth had been the easiest part of the day, by a long shot, and it hadn't gone smoothly or easily at all. An explosion from an ill timed grenade had injured Kasseri; Yariele had taken some shrapnel during a skirmish, but was still fit to fight. Mostly minor injuries, which had been expected, but more of them than they'd been prepared for. Even so, the confrontation with Tyth was going about as well as Theron had hoped, and he was keeping careful watch on the fight from the base, shoring up weak sides by telling people when to assist. 

Selirah ducked under the massive weapon that Tyth wielded with negligible effort, feeling the displaced air slice past overhead as she rolled past, knowing that Arcann had mirrored her gesture on the opposite side, leaving more space between then than she liked. They had paired to keep the massive droid's attentions from drifting to the rest of the force, trying to keep him from decimating their support before they'd managed to weaken him sufficiently. It was exhausting, and so much time felt like it'd passed, even though they both knew their perception of time was off during battle. She parried a new strike, barely, and staggered as the blade hammered into her, knocking her down to her knees. Arcann shielded her, taking the brunt of the return swing with his own blade while she got to her feet. 

She could see Yariele and the Mandalorians handling one of the waves of defensive drones that came to aid Tyth, keeping them away from the gigantic robot and dismantling them systematically. The Jedi's green blade flashed neatly, bisecting one droid as Alyxia lit up another with missile fire. The huge platform they were fighting on left plenty of room for the team to split up, handling different duties, and Torian's group were on the far side, keeping Tyth under constant fire lest he turn on Yariele's group. Nox and Lyorek were with Selirah and Arcann, though the Inquisitors were hard to watch and even harder to keep track of, so she did not even try. Theron's voice calmly directed, and while she could hear him, Selirah and Arcann both were far too deep in the force to pay much attention to him. They were only aware of each other and their opponent, working as two halves of a cohesive whole, keeping enough out of his reach to prevent him from simply bashing them into pieces, but keeping him angry and focused on them so that he didn't decimate their team. The robot seemed to be weakening, bellowing at them in a rage, and in a flurry of blows, Seli drove him to his knees, Lyorek and Nox's robed forms appearing and vanishing, their damage further infuriating the great droid. 

“YOU ARE A SACRIFICE! NOTHING MORE! NONE CAN HARM A GOD!” Tyth roared at her, and Selirah roared back in her fury, the sound augmented by the force and powerful enough to shove him back a step. He brought his giant saberstaff down overhead, trying to smash her, and she shielded herself at the last moment, letting Arcann take the parry and come across behind her, drawing Tyth's attention. The droid gave a pained shout, the damage overloading him, and she saw the bright focused attacks of her team striking Tyth, missiles, blaster fire, multiple lightsabers. Selirah dug in through the exhaustion as Tyth swept an arm back, striking Alyxia. She spun through the air and smashed to the ground meters away on the platform, her body skidding towards the edge. It was Yariele who seized her with the force, keeping her from tumbling off towards the fires below. 

Everything happened fast, too fast. Distracted by the concerted attack, Tyth swung his saber blade in a sweeping blow, roaring in fury. Kass shouted something in Mando'a, and Nox drove her saber into the droid's leg from behind. Tyth kicked the little Inquisitor halfway across the platform, and as she lay there in a small, half-conscious heap of black robes, Selirah impossibly thought she saw Quinn come from the support group that was hanging back, administering aid when needed. He crossed to Nox and injected her with something, and in that moment, he looked up, and his dark blue eyes met hers across the space as Tyth swung the blade back and struck her directly. She was still staring at Quinn when the blade sheared into her side, sweeping her away, and crushed her violently to the ground. 

She heard Arcann's shout and felt his pain and shock through their bond as she crumpled. He buckled to the ground beside her, trying to lift her, dragging her out of the path of the droid's vengeful foot as he tried to stomp the life out of her. The life support systems in her suit reacted instantly, and a shock of agonizing pain was followed by kolto and numbing pain injections. Selirah tried to push up on her hands and knees, but she couldn't make her limbs work. Anger flooded her at the same moment that the stimulants hit her bloodstream, fury reaching her brain and forcing her body back up, heedless of the pain washing through her nerves and muscles. She saw Lyorek desperately engaging the droid to keep it from the rest of the team as it faltered, the systems going haywire, its swings weaker, wilder, and more uncoordinated. Pulling free from Arcann's grip, Selirah launched herself at the droid again without thinking, her saber driving into the thing's midsection. “I AM A GOD,” Tyth shouted in a fury. “I CANNOT FALL!” Selirah clung to the handle of her lightsaber as he spun in a circle, then went to his knees with a crash before tumbling to the ground. 

The last thing she saw was Tyth's huge hand coming down towards her as they both hit the ground, bound together by her saber's blade and her grip on it. Then it smashed into her and everything went dark.

**Alliance Medical Bay:**

_You will drive the titans against your Republic enemies – and become a god yourself._

_None can harm a god!_

_I am a god. I cannot fall!_

_A god has no family._

The voices spiraled through her thoughts as she slept, knowing on some level that she was unconscious, and had been drugged so that she could rest and heal in the kolto tank they had put her into. She could feel the bands of fabric wrapped around her breasts and hips, and the silky liquid she was immersed into inside the tank. Her body didn't hurt, and her mind was quiet, dreaming. She could feel Arcann nearby, his presence in the force powerful. His worry for her swirled in her mind, and she closed it off, letting her mind drift away as her body rested. Selirah pushed all the thoughts away, refusing to examine them, to think of why she was thinking them. She thought of nothing, not even the moment when she'd seen Quinn's startled eyes meeting hers. 

_A god has no family._

She slept.

When Selirah woke again, they had taken her from the tank and left her to rest in one of the beds. She lay still, taking stock of her body. The bruises were gone, the cuts mostly healed. The worst of the injuries was her side, but her ribs and the heavy armor had kept it from catastrophic damage. It ached, and had probably needed surgery when they'd first brought her in. Her mind went instantly to Quinn, but she couldn't think of him without pain. 

“Selirah?” As if her thoughts had conjured him, Quinn came into sight next to her bed, his eyes somehow managing to be both relieved and wary when he saw that she was awake. “How do you feel?” She moved slightly, careful of the pain in her side, and she saw his expression tighten with concern. “Stay still. You need more rest before you can get up. At least one more day, even with your constitution.”

Obediently, she lay still, her lavender eyes searching the room carefully. “I am alright.. thanks to you, I'm certain. Nox subverted my wishes and kept you here, yes? She told me she needed an assistant. That she'd taken one of the Alliance officers. She was careful not to tell me who, though, and she told me when she knew I would not care to hear the details.” 

“No one is here, just us,” Quinn told her, pulling up a rolling stool and changing the height so that he could see her face more clearly. “It was Darth Nox, yes. You know I couldn't refuse her. I tried, but..”

“I'm not blaming you. I know what she did, if not exactly why. It doesn't matter.. with her, it could have just been a momentary whim anyway. I would have told you anyway that I was wrong to try to send you away, as if you'd done something to deserve it. I'm sorry for it, and I was sorry for it immediately. I should have spoken to you about everything, and I just acted.” She closed her eyes, suppressing the urge to move and to face him, knowing that it would hurt and that it was better to not risk the temptation. “I hope that you will forgive me, Malavai.”

His hand touched her shoulder, resting there briefly before he pulled it away. “I forgive you. I thought I was watching you die there against that droid, Selirah. The fact that you pushed me away feels a lot less important after that moment, than it did when I woke up that morning and saw the new orders.” Quinn straightened and stood, rising off the stool and moving away to his desk. “I knew that there was a lot more going on than I understood, and I know you have a complicated life. But I also know that you felt what I did that night.” He saw her start to speak, and interrupted quickly. “There will be time for us to talk soon. For now, you need to rest, and I think you have visitors coming to see you.” 

The warning in his voice was all that Selirah needed. She turned her head towards the door, watching as Theron and Arcann came in together. The tension in the room between them and Quinn was slightly less than she'd expected, but given that he'd operated on her and saved her life – Selirah had to assume that it'd bought him at least a little goodwill, even from Arcann. Even so, he excused himself quickly and left them to their visit, warning that she needed to sleep soon. They stayed as long as they could, both of them together, reassuring themselves that she was fine. Every bit of the fight was gone over, the injuries, the patrols since, the Republic's ramped up attacks since they'd failed to take Tyth themselves.

But when they left her to her rest, and she felt herself start to drift off to sleep – it wasn't Theron, or Arcann, or Quinn, or anyone else here that she thought about. Instead, it was the persistent, cold, certain sound of Valkorian's voice inside her mind that day when she'd taken the throne for herself at last. 

The Scions' promises about what her fate could be, if she were to triumph over the six Gods of Zakuul, only made it linger more strongly in her thoughts. And as she fell asleep, Selirah felt a fear grip her heart that she was going down a path where no one that she loved could follow her.

_A god has no family._


	82. Frontline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron's finding Lana's job pretty tedious.
> 
> Selirah is getting her namaste on.
> 
> Theron's patrol hits a snag, and he sees someone he used to know.
> 
> Lyorek is left alone with a Jedi. Things that make you go hmm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> There is a second speaker in the Operation for only like one line, and it shows their name. I haven't stated it here. I may leave it till they're revealed as a boss. It's not really a big plot point or even really spoilery since it's obviously going to be one of a given number of names. Just a random detail. ;)

“You -can- just walk around her,” Theron remarked calmly. Alyxia stood uncomfortably in the center of the room, a few feet away from Selirah, helmet tucked under one arm and her green eyes fixed on the Twi'lek. Selirah was deep in meditation, and her eyes were closed – Theron was not convinced at all that she heard nothing of what was going on around her while she was so engaged, but if she did, she had never said as much. “She is communing, somehow, and she won't notice you. Don't ask me to explain it, just come tell me what is going on with the Republic.”

Alyxia cast another doubtful look at Selirah's still form, kneeling in the center of the room, her head bowed and hands folded in her lap. Stepping around her with the air of someone avoiding an armed bomb, all careful gestures and sidelong looks, the Mandalorian came over to Theron at his workstation, perching on the edge of the desk. “No other way to say it, spy boy, they're ramping up their assaults and incursions. They failed to get to Tyth before us, and I think they mean to find the next before we do.” She paused, then added, “I know you heard that second voice, when we launched the attack on Tyth. There was another voice, not his. We tried to triangulate where it'd originated from, but we were unsuccessful,” she admitted, her frank green eyes meeting Theron's hazel apologetically. “Still searching.”

“I heard it. Keep looking, and I'll see what I can discover as well, but we can't focus solely on that. Have the Imperials been able to hold off the Republic so far with what we could offer for support?” Theron glanced at the screens in front of him, the troop numbers and deployments, records of skirmishes, defeats, wins, communications monitoring – all of it registered in seconds, and he pieced through the information, prioritizing the most vital situations. Their mobility had been hurt in the first days after the Tyth battle, with so many of their valuable forces wounded and recovering, particularly Selirah. And since then, he had to admit, something had been odd about Selirah. She'd been surprisingly patient about her recovery time, sleeping when Arcann and Theron had urged her to, and spending much of her awake time as she was right now, consumed in the force and meditating. If she was searching for something, though, she had not confessed to what it was. 

“Yes, but there have been some heavily pitched battles. The Republic has some big-shot Jedi coordinating their attacks now; she came in before we faced Tyth, and has been heading up their incursions herself. Kasseri's seen her, but I have not, yet.” The Mandalorian's clear green eyes snapped with challenge, and Theron smiled in amusement.

“I'm sure you would handle the Jedi as well as you handle everything.” He sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with his hands, careful around the edges of his implants. His head ached, much like it always seemed to these days. But he was trying to wean himself off some of the medications that he'd been taking for the persistent pain, at Quinn's recommendation. He knew the officer was correct – many of the drugs were dangerous to be on for too long, and he still hoped that the headaches would ease soon. 

The presence of Quinn here on the base still was a matter for another time. Selirah had been disinterested in talking about it, and had merely directed him to talk to Darth Nox if he had an issue with her appropriation of support staff. He would have thought she was deflecting any talk of the other man, if she hadn't been handling basically everything the same way since she'd been injured. Sleep, eat, exercise, meditate. That was all she did. And with the escalation of Republic attacks, they needed her back up to fighting form as soon as possible, so Theron had found himself with his hands tied when it came to pushing about the problems they were facing. Instead, he'd started sending Arcann, Nox, Lyorek, and the Mandalorians out more often, and now that Yariele was recovered, she would be going out with the next patrol as well. They'd managed to cover the gaps so far, but everyone was eager for Selirah to return to full duty. And Theron was personally very eager for Lana to come back and take over the tedious work of coordination.

“I'll take care of her when I find her, that's for certain. You look like something that came out of the south end of a northbound bantha, burc'ya. Getting enough sleep?” Alyxia's observation was acidic, but still kindly intended, and Theron took it in the spirit it was meant, knowing that she spoke this way to the people she was the most fond of, like Torian and Kass. 

“Probably not. There's too much to do,” Theron admitted. “But it's not going to wait for me to sleep, so I can complain or I can just keep working.”

“True,” the Mandalorian agreed, resting one gloved hand on his shoulder in a surprisingly warm comforting gesture. Her green eyes were sympathetic, and she even gave him a brief, rare smile, the expression admittedly not doing -much- to soften her serious expression, but still, Theron appreciated it. “Don't overdo. You're no good to anyone dead, yeah?” 

Theron laughed. “You're right. I'm sure she'll be back out there soon, Alyxia. You all need to push for a while longer. Her side's healing fast, and I think perhaps the meditation is even helping speed the process somewhat. It always looks better after she comes out of a session.” He may not have been able to sense the force, but Theron knew that the things that could be done with it were nothing short of miraculous. “Just don't touch her. She doesn't react well to that,” he warned as Alyxia slid off the desk and headed for the door, her battered helmet dangling from her hand. 

“No intention to, spy boy. I know better,” she called over her shoulder, sidling around the statue-still Sith and heading out the door, leaving Theron alone to return to his rapidly scrolling screens and multiplying messages and reports.

_Awareness flickered._

_Alyxia's presence was registered, but Selirah dismissed it as unimportant. Images flashed in her mind, short scenarios. Pitched battles, increased Republic presence. She saw the Jedi for a moment, her robed form moving with calm purpose, directing troops, engaging the Imperials. Her face was barely visible inside the deep brown hood, and she wielded a pale blue lightsaber blade with precision._

_She felt the Jedi's presence, and also the moment when the other woman felt hers. Acknowledgement flared, and they both probed each other briefly before the contact broke. The image faded, though Selirah grasped for it, trying to hold on to the vision. In that moment, though, she'd felt one thought at the top of the Jedi's cleanly ordered mind._

_Theron Shan._

Her grasp on the force faded, and Selirah let herself rise up out of her mind, returning to the body kneeling on the floor, feeling her awareness of her body and the room around her coming back to her. She opened her eyes slowly, and glanced around. Theron had been there, when she'd gone into her trance, but he was gone now. She could feel Arcann in the room before she even looked at him, sprawled comfortably on the couch, his eyes closed and his right arm thrown over his face. “Where is Theron, keella?” she asked, nagged by a sensation of foreboding from that brief moment of clarity in her meditation. Perhaps it was time to talk to him about his headaches, and the voices Arcann had mentioned Theron had been hearing during the worst bouts of pain. He'd seemed well enough for the last few days, though she admitted that her preoccupation had probably colored that perception. She knew he was tired, and overworked. Healed or not, it was past time for her to take up her share of the patrols and work again.

Arcann stirred, moving his arm slightly, one bright blue eye peering at her from under the edge of his white sleeve. “I think he went out on patrol, with Lyorek,” the prince replied after a moment's consideration. “We are stretched thin, and Acina asked for some additional personnel at one of the harder hit sectors. Sorry, Seli.. I was half-asleep. Just need a short rest, and I can head out again and take the Imperial assistance team.”

Selirah shook her head, crouching down next to him, one hand resting on his chest. “Get some sleep. I'll go help shore up Theron's position.” She could see him glance at her side, uncertainly. “I'm fine. No unnecessary risks, I promise. But Theron's tired too, and I don't want them to be pressed too hard there or lose that ground. The Republic is desperate, and desperate people can be surprisingly resilient.” 

Arcann gave her a rueful look, a half-smile touching the corner of his mouth. “Nobody knows that better than I do. Alright, love. Be careful, then, and I'll see you both when you get back.”

**Iokath Expanse:**

The Imperials and Alliance forces were milling in complete disarray when Selirah arrived. There weren't many of them left, about half of those that she knew had gone out. But then she noticed something that concerned her far worse than the obvious loss that they had suffered against this new Republic commander.

“Where is Theron? Where's Lyorek?” she demanded, her violet eyes frantically searching over the soldiers, trying to find him, to sense Lyorek's familiar presence. But they were gone. The Sith Empire affiliated colonel that she'd seized in one hand looked panicked, clearly afraid to tell her what had happened. She shook him violently, her eyes focusing on his face, rage stirring to life. “WHERE IS THERON?”

“They took him, Empress! Both of them. It was an ambush by the Republic, and they split us up and the group we were fighting led us on a chase. When we got back to the fallback position, they were gone. We tracked them back, but they are definitely at the Republic base, and both of them are surely prisoners. I'm sorry, Empress, we did our best!” The man stared back at her, clearly expecting her to violently extinguish his life for failing her, for letting Theron be captured.

But she let him go after a long, terrifying moment, uncurling her fingers by force of will, one after the other. Selirah could feel Arcann awaken abruptly, reaching out to her, and she opened herself to him, sharing her rage and fear. The touch of his mind on hers made the tidal wave of anger easier to bear, and she backed up a few steps, her fists clenched, taking a deep breath. _Theron... the Jedi had taken Theron._

“Get the men together and regroup back at the base,” Selirah said flatly to the obviously relieved colonel. “I want a group together as soon as possible to go in after them.”

“Yes, Empress. I will see to it personally.”

**Republic Base:**

Theron woke with a start, his stomach twisting agonizingly. He choked, gagging, and leaned over the edge of the bed he was lying in. He caught sight of a small hand basin on the table beside him, and reached for it, making it just in time before he got sick. His head spun, pain ricocheting around in his skull, the nausea making him gag again before he could lay back on the bed. He heard someone come into the room, but the lights were far too painful to his head for him to open his eyes and see who it was, so he hoped dully that they weren't there to kill him. It seemed unlikely, since they'd so thoughtfully left him something to throw up into, but one never did know for sure. Villains could have manners.

“I apologize. I meant to be here sooner, but I was otherwise occupied with your companion. He is quite violently concerned for your safety.” The voice was low and smooth, unaccented, and it was disorienting to realize how accustomed he'd become to the Imperial accent, because the woman's voice sounded strange to him at first, even though she sounded much like... well.. him. “I had to spend some time convincing him that we had not killed you, and had no intention of doing so, but then he became somewhat agitated.” Her hand came down to rest on Theron's forehead, checking his temperature by touch. Her fingers were cool, and the touch felt oddly soothing, even though he vaguely remembered that they had been captured a short time ago during the skirmish with the Republic. “We have sedated him for now, but I think that it will not hold him for long. Are you in pain, Theron?”

He tried to open his eyes, at least a little, so he could get a look at the woman speaking to him, but the light was like a knife, cutting into his aching head. Her voice, however, was familiar, and he tried to place it, thinking as best as he could through the pained fog of his headache. “Yes. Something hit me.. I remember that. You have to let us go. You can't keep us here,” he warned, his voice raw with pain and confusion, trying to remember the events that had led to being here. Up until a certain point in the patrol, everything had been routine. But then they'd encountered a well-organized Republic ambush, led by the Jedi. Half of their force had been cut off from the other half, and in the process of trying to rejoin their companions, he and Lyorek had been hit by flash grenades, and the light had been agonizing to Theron's already aching head. Then one of the soldiers.. one of them had hit him in the head.. 

“Ahh, yes. I am sorry for that, as well, but they were only trying to incapacitate you. They were aware of your skills, and that your companion was a Sith. They thought to immobilize you, and instead you collapsed and became very obviously sick. We rushed you back to the base as quickly as possible and stabilized you.” The more Theron listened to her, the more familiar she sounded, and he wasn't sure at first if it was just the patented Jedi serenity that was so familiar to him or if it was that he actually knew her. Then suddenly, it clicked in his mind. “I cannot release you just yet, though, regretfully.”

“Kally? Is that you?” 

A low, amused chuckle answered his question. “No one calls me that anymore, Theron. Could you imagine? Battlemaster Kally. I suppose one letter doesn't make -that- much of a difference, though,” Kallyn replied mildly. “I am sorry that we are meeting again under these circumstances, Theron, but I must confess to you in the spirit of honesty that I was searching particularly for you. May I .. with the pain.. ? I could help, so that you need not be given more pain medications, if you are uncomfortable with being drugged in our base.” Her fingers tapped his forehead very gently, telling him what she was intending.

“It's a safe bet that yes, I am uncomfortable with being drugged in the Republic base, Master Kallyn,” Theron replied, a little dryly. “You have to know that this is going to escalate things incredibly, so I hope you have a very good reason for needing to kidnap me.. and did you say that you have my companion too?” The only indication that she was doing something was the obvious one – his headache began to ease, and the pain and nausea were gently sponged away by her healing. Theron sighed in relief, and slowly opened his eyes, grateful to see that he could do it without pain. Kallyn stood before him, her head bowed and her hands spread above his chest. Her heavily woven robes were dark brown and cream, with armor insets at the shoulders and thighs. Her lightsaber hung at her waist from the belt wrapped around the layers of sashes she wore, and he could see a curl of her dark brown hair starting to escape her deep hood. She looked thinner than he'd remembered her being, but war wore on them all in the end, Theron supposed. 

When she finished healing him, her eyes opened, a soft, clear green that reminded him somewhat of Alyxia's moss-green eyes, now that he thought about it. But that was where any similarity to the Mandalorian ended. Alyxia was all hard edges, whipcord and steel, and Kallyn had always been a thoughtful, gentle person despite her aptitude for battle and combat. He'd known her for years, since Tython, and seen her infrequently as they'd grown up. Once he'd left the Jedi, she had been one of the few that had kept in contact with him when she'd been able to, and they'd been friends. Theron had not been sure what had become of her, after everything had happened with the Eternal Empire, and he had always regretted losing touch with her. He'd hoped that she would choose to join them in the Alliance, but it appeared that was a vain hope now. 

“Yes, we do. One of our Jedi healers is looking the Zabrak over in another room. Better?” Kallyn smiled, and Theron smiled reflexively back at her before remembering that she'd basically kidnapped him and that Selirah was probably going to tear this place down to the ground soon in search of him and Lyorek if he didn't get Kallyn to let him go. 

“Yes, much. Thank you. But.. Kallyn, I meant what I said. You can't keep us here. For your own good, you need to let us go.” 

“I am aware that your Empress will be looking for you, most fervently. But your mother..” 

“Tell me you are not serious. You're risking a lot just to bring me a message from my mother. She could have sent me a message via Holonet.. it's not like she hasn't done that before.” Theron sat up on the bed, but as he'd expected, his blasters were missing, as was the holdout that he kept tucked into his boot. No communicators, no holo, no nothing. Kallyn had been quite thorough. “Fine. Then we can holo or … whatever. Or is she here?”

Kallyn was giving him an odd look. Compassionate, even possibly slightly pitying. Theron stared back at her, trying to translate the look in her green eyes. “Satele Shan is not here, and it wasn't her intention to have this conversation over holo, Theron.” 

Then he realized what she intended, and he shook his head, refusing. “No. You cannot seriously think.. no, Kallyn. I'm not going off planet, and I'm not going to Coruscant, or anywhere with you. Holo her. I'm not going there.” 

“I intend to tell your Sith where you are once you are safely off planet, Theron, so that she will not take out her anger on the rank and file here. She will know who to blame. I will accept the weight of it upon my shoulders,” Kallyn told him reasonably, her expression coolly serene. 

Theron looked at her like she'd lost her mind, mostly because he was starting to think that she had. “I'm pretty sure that you know as well as I do that doing so is not going to prevent her from making a crater out of this camp, Kallyn. You cannot think this is a reasonable idea. It will end in so much loss of life, and for what? So my mother can assuage her minuscule amount of sorrow about Jace? So she can pretend to be a mother and then try to probe me for information about Selirah?” 

Kallyn gave him a disapproving look, but to her credit, she seemed to be giving some thought to his argument. Finally, she said quietly, “I will talk to her first, then, Theron. Perhaps she will be willing to speak to you via holo, as you have asked. Your point is not invalid, regarding the lives on this base. I am not willing to endanger them solely to fulfill the request of an honored teacher. You are certain that your Empress would not see my statement to her that you are with me as reason enough to confine her attacks to the more .. typical.. warfare here on Iokath?”

“Yes,” Theron replied, very firmly. “I am absolutely, positively certain that she would raze this entire encampment to the ground, and salt the kriffing earth. Kallyn, I'm not saying this just because I want to go home. I'm saying this because it's the truth. You will be signing the death warrant of all these men and women if you try to take me off planet.”

“I believe that you believe what you are saying, Theron. Home?” Kallyn gave him a penetrating look. “So Satele is correct. She said you had made your choice, but I admit that I did not believe it fully.”

“If she knows I'm not going to come back to the Republic, why does she want to see me?”

“That is for your mother to say, Theron. I am a messenger, due to my potential access to you once I was assigned to head the operations here on Iokath. That is all. Though I am pleased to see that you are well.. relatively speaking. You are happy with your.. Alliance? Your Empress?” 

He didn't want to answer, at first. He wanted to find some insult in it, towards himself, or towards Seli. But Kallyn's face was open and curious, gently questioning, and he saw nothing there of judgment. “Yes. I am. I don't always agree with everything, of course. But I never did within the Republic, either, and on the whole, she is usually correct in her decisions for the Alliance.”

“For the Alliance, but not for you?” She smiled faintly at him. “I am aware of your relationship with her, yes. It is no secret now, as well you know.”

“There are some cultural differences, let's just leave it at that. But I have no regrets, Kallyn, and my choice is made and remains unchanged, and always will.”

The Jedi chuckled softly. “Cultural differences. That is an interesting way of commenting on Imperial culture and Sith behavior, Theron. But I believe you, and I'm glad that you are happy with your Sith. It is not what I expected for you, of course, particularly given your lineage. Although, perhaps that should have given me the first idea, now that I consider it. Still.. I am pleased for you. You never struck me as a happy person before, Theron. You always seemed to be waiting for something to happen; something that you could believe in. It seems that you found it.” Kallyn went to the door, and then glanced back at him, her hooded face thoughtful. “I will consider what you've told me and speak to Satele. I'll return soon. If you need another healing at that point, I will do it, but perhaps we should also talk about what is going on with your headaches, hmm?”

“I'll reserve judgment until you tell me whether you intend to take me off planet or not, Kallyn. Nothing personal. But I hope you rethink it.” Theron shrugged, and the Jedi smiled at him and walked out the door, locking it behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday's the tough day so I wanted to finish this and get it posted. I might need to be working on something to keep my mind off it, but I'm going to err on the side of spending a catatonic weekend eating ice cream and missing my little buddy. Thank you all for the sympathy and understanding about my dog, Quinn*. It's enormously appreciated. <3
> 
> * (not to be confused with Malavai Quinn)
> 
> Mando'a notes: burc'ya - friend (sometimes sarcastic. Not sarcastic here.)


	83. Truth Or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyorek plays his favorite game.
> 
> Theron and Kallyn have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Just placement. :)

The sedative that they'd given him was wearing off. 

Lyorek stayed still, eyes closed, listening. The room was quiet, but he could sense another presence. Someone was waiting for him to wake up, and he didn't want to be drugged again the moment he opened his eyes. Admittedly, he'd lost his temper earlier, and had richly deserved being knocked out. But he'd gotten the answers that he'd wanted about Theron, and knew that the other man was being held in the same area. Now, all he had to do was find a way to go get him, so they could get out of here. If he left without Theron, even though it'd be easier.. Selirah would make him regret it, and worse.. so would Nox, for having failed to accrue a substantial debt that Selirah would feel obligated to repay. That wasn't a conversation that he wanted to have, so instead, he stirred slightly, and was gratified by hearing someone else move in response.

A soft shushing sound of robes on the floor told the Zabrak who was in the room with him... one of the Jedi. Of course, they couldn't have made it easy by leaving a simple pair of soldiers with him. The movement also told him that he was wearing cuffs. Large, heavy ones. Force-inhibiting, if they were smart, which it seemed that they had been. Lyorek waited patiently, hearing the footsteps come closer, hesitantly. Then he opened his eyes slowly, lashes lifting over his gold and crimson eyes in a deliberate, sleepily inviting manner. He let his gaze focus on the cream-clad Jedi, taking in the man's light build and soft, wary brown eyes, but he said nothing, waiting for his captor to speak.

“Theron Shan is well. Our commander bade me make certain to tell you that the moment you woke up,” the Jedi said cautiously, his voice a resonant tenor. “I healed you myself. In case you were wondering about your injuries.”

“That was very kind of you,” Lyorek replied, smiling lazily, letting his face soften. “Would you help me sit up? It's hard to get my balance with these cuffs on and I feel strange laying here while you're standing.” The request was met with a nervous glance from the Jedi, but after a moment, he nodded, offering a hand to the Zabrak. Lyorek took it firmly in his, not letting his gaze leave the other man's face as he pulled him upright. He held his hand a moment longer, adding, “Thank you.” 

“Are you... you were with Theron Shan so we had assumed that you were with the Alliance and not the Sith Empire. Is that correct?” 

“Yes. Since the beginning, but I lack the power of many of the people whose names you would likely recognize at once. Speaking of names.. I apologize for my impolite behavior earlier, but I was concerned for my friend. My name is Lyorek.” He gave the Jedi an expectant look, his smile warming as the other man answered in kind.

“Mine is Jaxan. Do you really have Republic and Imperials working together in the Alliance? You work with Republic people regularly?” 

“We do, and I do, yes. I get along extremely well with virtually everyone in the Alliance.” Lyorek folded his legs comfortably, crossing them and settling the folds of his robe in his lap as best as he could, pillowing his cuffed wrists on the fabric. “We all have the same goals, and the same faith in our Empress. Can't imagine being able to work with people from different backgrounds than your own?” he questioned, a sparkle of humor lighting his eyes. 

The Jedi tucked his hands into his robe sleeves, giving Lyorek a considering look. The Zabrak saw his shoulders ease from their tight line, dropping into a more relaxed stance, and he hunched his back and let his shoulders fall inwards a little bit in response, making himself look smaller, less threatening. “I suppose it is difficult to imagine how any such an organization could function. Your Empress is a Sith.. more.. she was the former Wrath of the Emperor. It is hard for me to believe that she makes decisions that I could support very frequently.” 

“The son of your own Jedi Order's former Grandmaster is being held nearby. Do you think that Theron Shan is fine with the kind of decisions that you may imagine Sith are prone to making? Everything in the galaxy is not easily categorized, Jaxan.” Lyorek injected a little bit of hurt into his tone, shrinking his shoulders a tiny bit further, so that he could look up at the other man through his lashes. Then he shifted his gaze away, lowering it. “It's much easier to keep wars going if you are always told that the opposite side is nothing but monsters. But I was taken to the Academy as a child, and raised there. Who is to say that what I was taught about you is wrong? Even so.. I was able to see people like Theron, and Beywan Aygo, and Master Yariele as partners in the fight against the Eternal Empire, and then as friends.”

The Jedi looked abashed, and his cheeks colored in response to Lyorek's mild, but pointed, rebuke. “I suppose that's true.. we are both taught to view each other as our order and not as individuals. I remember Master Yariele, and she was very level headed, and kind. I cannot imagine her countenancing the kind of things that I picture most Sith doing.”

“She is still level headed, and still kind. And very driven to see the galaxy become a safer, more peaceful place,” agreed Lyorek. “Her advice is very valuable to the Empress.” He shifted his weight, and frowned, lifting his hands with difficulty to rub his head. “I feel a little light headed. I'm going to lie down, if that's alright.”

“Of course. Would you like me to help?” Jaxan offered solicitiously, and Lyorek nodded, his red-gold eyes fixed on the Jedi's brown eyes. His hands guided the Zabrak back down into a reclining position, and Lyorek gave him a grateful smile, sensing something receptive in the other man, though it was well-hidden beneath layers of rules and expectations.

“Thank you. I'm sure you've been told to stay and keep an eye on me, of course, so I don't expect otherwise. But perhaps you could talk to me while you're here?”

The Jedi nodded, returning to a small chair near the door and settling onto it, his cream robes whispering around his legs and pooling on the floor beside his chestnut brown boots. “What would you like for me to talk about?”

“Tell me about your life as a Jedi. Anything you like. I'm curious, and I like to get to know people.” Lyorek rolled onto his side, tucking his cuffed hands under his cheek, gazing across the room at Jaxan. “Just talk to me.”

Jaxan began talking, and Lyorek focused on him as if he were the most interesting person he'd ever met. When the Jedi moved his chair closer to the bed, Lyorek didn't bother to contain the smile he felt rising to his lips. He just directed it at the young human Jedi, listening to him attentively and asking questions when it was warranted. 

All he needed was to convince the Jedi to remove the cuffs. Then he'd be getting somewhere.

**Theron's Cell:**

Pacing back and forth -was- oddly satisfying, Theron acknowledged. He'd always wondered if Selirah did it just to unnerve her targets or the people around her, or if there was some sort of nervous energy component to it. But the act itself was better than doing nothing, and waiting to be brought more news about his remaining parent. Even thinking about Satele brought such a confusing array of emotions to the forefront of his mind. “There is no emotion,” he said aloud, “only annoyance.” 

“That isn't -quite- the way that I learned it,” Kallyn said as she opened the door, stepping inside, and Theron caught a glimpse of heavily armed soldiers outside. “But I can sympathize. I'm sure it is tedious being locked up like this, and I apologize. Would you like for me to bring you something to read?” The Jedi was carrying something under one arm, and her hood was down, leaving her curly brown hair on view, rebellious tendrils escaping the loose bun at the nape of her neck. “Any headaches?”

“Nothing worth commenting on.. my head feels alright, for the moment. It looks as if you already have something for me. Was Satele willing to holo with me?” Theron asked hopefully. 

“I have left a message for her to contact me, but in the meantime.. I have brought something else for you to view.” There was something in Kallyn's voice that made Theron feel uncomfortably suspicious, and his hazel eyes narrowed. “I am not trying to undermine your belief in your choices, Theron, and I do believe that you made them as well as you could, given your information at the time. I simply seek to offer you a fuller picture.”

“A fuller picture of what, exactly? Of Selirah?” He gave her an incredulous look, a short laugh escaping him to punctuate his astonishment. “You think that showing me something about who she used to be is going to change my view of who she is now?”

“Not necessarily, Theron. But does she talk to you about her past? About the things she did in service to the Empire?”

“It's not as if we didn't see the immediate results of her actions when she was the Wrath, Kallyn. There's no secret that she was efficient, and brutal, and that she substantially hindered our war efforts. But the same thing could have been said about me at times, and possibly you too, minus the brutal part. Would you want me to judge you based on hard decisions that you made in service to the Republic? The orders you were given as a Jedi? I doubt they were all perfectly moral or above board.” He saw he'd scored a point when Kallyn's face went briefly ashen, and her green eyes dropped away from his face. “You know that I love her, Kallyn. Even my mother respects her, if reluctantly. They don't like each other.. but Satele respects the things that Selirah has done to protect the galaxy from the Emperor, and his family.”

“Theron, strong emotions can blind us to the reality of what, and who, the people we care for really are. You know that. Why would you walk away from the Republic at a time when we desperately needed strong people like you to help us keep everything from crumbling? I know your mother has done foolish things at times where you are concerned, but if nothing else, that should show you the dangers of letting emotions lead your decisions.” She sighed, and sank down on his bed, setting the portable projector on her knee. “You have been around these Sith for so long that embracing every strong emotion seems acceptable to you. But you were not raised to think that way, and I know that our teachings have helped you. You've told me as much yourself.”

“Strong emotions can drive you to fight even when it seems hopeless to do so,” Theron pointed out reasonably. “Selirah's anger and passion fueled her in her battles against the Eternal Empire. They gave her the strength to survive near death in carbonite, and being impaled by a lightsaber. She should have died several times over, and after being nearly killed, would get back up and keep fighting, while the Republic bent and kneeled to the conquerors. We should have never stopped fighting, Kallyn. Submitting to those attacks wasn't something I was prepared to do.” He paced back and forth, and the Jedi watched him, her expression troubled. “How was I raised? Abandoned by my mother, denied my father, pushed out of the first and only home I ever had because I wasn't good enough to stay? Told that I shouldn't feel hurt by it? That I should embrace serenity? That's a crazy idea. How is it healthy to hide from our emotions and pretend we don't feel them?” 

“It's not that we pretend we don't -have- the emotions, Theron. It's that we cannot let them be our guide. You know that. I'm not going to deny that it's important to be strong, and to push back against those who would take us over and destroy us. But you have to be careful not to become the thing you are fighting.” Kallyn watched Theron, back and forth, back and forth, and finally held up a hand. “Theron, stop. You're making me nervous with all that pacing. I know you want to go back to the Alliance, and you're concerned about Selirah's response.”

“Concerned isn't quite the word I would use. She's probably making sure she can just utterly crush you when she arrives. She isn't the person that you think she is, but you're not wrong in that she still believes strength is the best position to be in while negotiating.”

“She cannot all-out assault this base, Theron. That would be foolhardy, even for someone with her power and resources.” 

“Do you think she is the only one with power like that, there? I know you've probably been probing Lyorek, trying to get a read on him, but he'd be the first one to admit that he's not in the same league as many of our Sith and Jedi.. or the Zakuulans.” Theron slowed his pacing, standing where he could face Kallyn, his arms crossed over his chest.

Kallyn's green eyes lit with sudden interest, and she reached to tuck one curling lock of hair behind her ear, gazing at Theron curiously. “About that.. I've wondered how that happened. Everyone seemed so focused on eliminating the upstart Emperor. And after all those battles and pitched fights, even after he nearly murdered her as you said.. she accepted him into her ranks, and even seems to trust him at her side. How did that change happen? It does not seem much like a Sith decision to make. Why didn't she kill him?”

“Like I said.. she's not the person that you think she is. But her decision doesn't fall as far from that Sith tree as you'd think. Arcann's extremely powerful, and Sith recognize and value power. I can't pretend to understand the whole reason why she chose to accept him, but she saw his changed mindset and accepted his pledge of support and loyalty. Selirah has always valued those who are loyal to her. She defends her people, and calls them friends, and listens to their counsel. How many of our leaders have been front line on the battlefield? Never asked anyone to do something that they wouldn't do themselves? There is a reason why so many people chose to follow her, Kallyn. And it's not because she's a tyrant, or a monster.” 

The Jedi smiled, watching him speak, and shook her head slightly in amusement. “I saw so many hints of this in you over the years, Theron. Times when you would dig in and fight stubbornly, against the odds, determined to do what you saw as the right thing. And it is hard to look at you now, and see what you have had a hand in accomplishing, and not see the value of your passion and conviction. You saw a failure in the Republic, and you wanted to change it. I can respect that, even if I am not sure that I support the methods. I still think you should have a more complete picture of the person that you are defending to me, but perhaps you already do know who she was and have your reasons for letting that part of her life go.”

“The Order has let you continue, even after what happened with the Emperor, Kallyn. I'm not throwing it in your face.. I know that you told me about it because you worried that I would let my anger and frustration with Satele pull me down. But it's hypocritical to say that Selirah should be hung out to dry for the things she did as the Wrath when you gave the former Wrath a home on your own ship, and when you fell to the Emperor's power yourself,” Theron replied, carefully, sympathy evident in his expression and his hazel eyes. “Why should she be constantly blamed for what she did then? I don't see you as a bad person for anything you might have done during that time.”

“Perhaps you don't, but -I- do. And there are those in the Order who may never trust me fully again, because of my failure. I will pay that price forever, and I don't argue that I shouldn't be paying it. Your Empress -did- all the things that we are discussing so obliquely here. And I doubt very much that she loses sleep over any of them, regardless of what she does now. Has there been any atonement for the killings and destruction that she wrought?”

“No. Do you think it will matter to the Republic that the Supreme Commander tried to activate a superweapon that would have killed everyone on this planet? Or will he be remembered as a hero of the Republic for all time? Which image is the one that matters? Because they're both true,” Theron argued, and Kallyn held up a hand, forestalling further from him. 

“You're right. People are complex, and I can't judge her mindset without knowing her. Theron.. perhaps..” The Jedi paused, and her expression grew remote, with that distant look of 'listening' that Theron had grown to recognize in all the force-users around him with long-practice. “That Sith.. Lyorek. Do you trust him?”

Theron's expression was almost comedic for a moment with the multiple emotions crossing it, and Kallyn could see him trying to parse how best to answer her question. “I trust him personally, yes,” he answered cautiously. “Why?”

“Something.. maybe it's nothing. I just thought I sensed.. I think I should relieve the Jedi who is keeping guard over him,” the Knight said uneasily, and Theron's face changed, a glimmer of humor touching the hazel eyes. “You said you trusted him, Theron.”

“I said -I- trust him.” His mouth twitched, but she could see his desire to laugh. “What's going on?”

“That's none of your affair, Theron,” Kallyn said, and Theron's smile inched across his face at the irritation in the Jedi's usually mild, serene voice. She stood up, setting the holo projector down on Theron's bed, and headed for the door, her steps just barely on the decorous side of hasty. “I'll be back to talk to you again later. If you want to watch, it is your choice. And don't think to use it to contact your Empress.. I am not fool enough to leave you something that you can use. It's been locked down, playback only.”

She could hear him laughing as she closed the door behind her.

**Lyorek's Cell:**

“How can you help people without understanding their fears and loves intimately?” Lyorek's eyes held Jaxan's, and the Jedi leaned forward, a reluctant fascination written in the position of his body and the rapt expression on his face. “Distancing yourself from them does not prevent you from letting outside influences affect your position, Jaxan. The best course always seems somewhere in the middle, to me. Experiencing emotions is not wrong. Embracing love, and affection can only strengthen your resolve to protect others. How can you empathize, if you don't understand what drives the other person? How can you understand me if you don't understand my passions?” He shifted his cuffed wrists, and saw Jaxan's eyes move to the bindings in a brief, uncertain glance. “Doesn't it all start and end with attraction?” The Jedi's eyes jerked back up to his face, shocked, and Lyorek smiled slowly. “To the right thing? To doing what is best?” he finished, sweetly. 

Jaxan glanced at the locked door, and came a little closer, one hand touching a fold of Lyorek's black robes. “You have a point, I suppose, but.. embracing those strong emotions opens you to the dark side. Obviously you would understand that better than anyone.”

Lyorek let his hand shift slightly, his fingers brushing Jaxan's hand. The Jedi flinched, but he didn't pull away, letting the contact linger for a moment. “Letting yourself be overwhelmed by any emotion to the exclusion of what you know is right is just weakness. It doesn't mean that you shouldn't experience them, or even embrace them. We have lovers, wives, husbands, children, families.. and we are not a monolith of evil, despite what you might have been told. How many Sith have you actually spoken to?”

“Most of them have no interest in talking,” Jaxan said dryly, and Lyorek laughed, a low, husky sound. “They just want to goad us, and fight us, and kill us.” 

He could feel the other man's interest spike when he reached out, and made no effort to stop the Jedi from probing back with the force, or sensing his own interest. It wasn't even wholly counterfeit; in fact, it never was. Lyorek flattered himself that was what made him efficient at charming others; he was genuinely interested in them, and attracted to them, as a rule. “I do enjoy goading people, but I don't confine it to Jedi, I assure you. And I'm happy to fight people who are trying to kill me, or the people that I care about. I should hope that would be a default for anyone.” 

“You can't fight just to.. be fighting,” Jaxan replied. “But... yes, in defense of yourself, or those who need to be defended.” He smiled, his brown eyes warm, gazing into the Zabrak's red-gold eyes. His crimson and black skin was so unusual to see up close like this. The brown toned skin of the ones that resided in the Republic was far more commonly seen, and he had to admit that there was something very attractive about Lyorek's coloring, and demeanor, and the warm, engaging smiles that he freely offered. 

“I'm far too lazy to fight for no reason.” Lyorek's fingers brushed over the Jedi's hand, and he felt Jaxan's fingers curl slightly in response, not quite touching him back, but not refusing the touch either. He licked his lower lip, watching the pupils dilate in the human's eyes as he watched the gesture. Poor things.. their whole 'touch me not' philosophy made it a little bit like tumbling through the window of an Alderaanian noble house filled with virgin daughters. Target-rich environments, however, were his favorite places. “And we don't have to be enemies, Jaxan,” he added, lingering over the Jedi's name. “I like you.” Truth, again. Embracing the truth whenever possible was always the best path, he'd found. 

And it was certainly the case this time. The Jedi's capitulation to his patient campaign, when it came, was sudden. Jaxan closed his hand around the Zabrak's elegant, long fingers, his grip slightly less gentle than one might hope, but Lyorek didn't complain, instead widening his eyes in a display of surprise that goaded the other man into leaning forward, his free hand coming up to cup the red and black cheek, stroking his fingers slowly over the sharp lines of his markings. “I can sense that you are telling the truth,” Jaxan breathed, looking torn. But Lyorek could feel the fault lines forming in the other man's resolve; knew they had always been there, hidden, waiting for someone to see them and push them. “I shouldn't believe you.. I know that. But..”

Lyorek turned into the touch of his hand, letting his lips brush across the palm. He heard the Jedi's indrawn breath, felt the spike of desire, and deliberately kissed his skin. The struggle he could feel in the other man was all but over, although he had to admire Jaxan's desperate attempt to control what he felt, even though it was doomed. A moment later, Jaxan's lips met his, and Lyorek could hardly contain his exultation. He let the other man bear him down onto the bed with the weight of his eagerness, making sure his cuffed hands were between them, pressed against Jaxan's firm stomach. Sliding them upwards awkwardly, he twisted away from the charmingly inexpert kiss long enough to slide his bound hands over Jaxan's head, then pulled him back down to him, opening his mouth for the kiss, careful to be gentle, letting the Jedi take the initiative. He had to know he'd started it, that he'd chosen to give in to his attraction.. because Lyorek could feel the approach of the commander and knew that things were about to get especially entertaining. 

The door clicked, and then swung open forcefully, almost rebounding against the wall. One eye half-open, Lyorek saw the shocked expression on the Jedi Knight's face as she took in the scene. “Jaxan! What are you doing?” Her calm voice was somewhat fractured with her disbelief and horror, and Lyorek dislodged his arms awkwardly, pushing himself away as Jaxan stumbled back, all the way to the wall, as if putting distance physically between him and the Inquisitor would alleviate the way they'd been discovered. 

“I... Battlemaster.. I am.. The prisoner..” stammered the Jedi, panicking, his brown eyes flickering towards the Zabrak sprawled on the bed, still somehow managing to make himself look disturbingly inviting even in this incredibly shameful moment. 

“It was my fault,” Lyorek said coolly, his attention solely for the woman in the doorway. “Don't blame him for it. I tricked him. He had nothing to do with it.” He could feel Jaxan's incredulous look, but he didn't look away from Kallyn's shocked face, her wide green eyes. “I exploited his kindness and tricked him. He shouldn't be blamed for his compassion, or my manipulation of it.” 

Kallyn spluttered, caught flat-footed, and gestured to the door. “Out, now!” Jaxan hastily obeyed, tugging his robes into order with a humiliated flush in his cheeks, but Lyorek caught his grateful look, hiding the smile he wanted to give in return. “I'm not sure what you thought you were going to accomplish with this, Sith, but I'll be more careful in who I assign to you from here on out.”

“Now now, my name is Lyorek, not Sith, and maybe I was just bored.” With Jaxan gone, Lyorek indulged himself in the smile after that comment, a mocking expression that didn't reach his fiery eyes at all. “But I'm sure you will. You could stay with me, you know.. We could talk. Get to know each other. Maybe you'll find that I'm your type.. you could definitely be -mine-.” 

“I'm quite certain anyone and anything is your type, as long as they'll let you out of here,” Kallyn replied flatly. “Clearly you saw something you could work with in Jaxan, and he and I will talk about that. For now, though, I think you can stay here alone, rather than risk you corrupting another Jedi.”

As she left, Kallyn thought sourly that exiting rooms to the accompaniment of laughter was becoming an unpleasantly common habit.


	84. Dear Mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah is thwarted in her plans for a heroic, and probably spectacularly violent, rescue by an odd pair.
> 
> Theron has a somewhat productive talk with Satele, and they don't even get -too- upset with each other.
> 
> Nox's disguise skills are really -really- ... good? Adequate? Amusing?
> 
> Kallyn is overworked, and gets caught with her back to the action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
> Nothing but the planet.
> 
> And there's only a little Quinn here, I know, Foxxfirerose. But there will be more. ;)

“Where are you going?”

Selirah paused mid-step, biting back a curse. It hadn't been one voice. It'd been two, with the same question, and now both of the owners of those voices were glaring at each other. “I am going out. Do I need to tell you both before I do anything?” 

Quinn stopped frowning at Arcann first, his dark blue eyes moving over her pointedly from head to toe, taking in the heavy armor. “Of course not, Empress,” he said politely, managing through his precisely raised eyebrow to convey mild shock at the idea that she would think he was questioning her movements, even while he did exactly that. It was so typical of him that it almost made her smile. Almost.

“Yes, you do need to tell -me-,” Arcann added, ill-temper bristling in his tone and the unfriendly look he gave Quinn. “If it's likely that you're going somewhere dangerous, and you're thinking of going alone. You cannot go to their base by yourself.”

“I just want to talk to their commander. It doesn't have to be a big issue,” Selirah retorted. “I'm sure we can come to an accommodation in which she returns Theron and Lyorek, and I don't kill her soldiers.” She wasn't sure which one of them sighed, but she frowned at them both in disapproval. “I do not need your permission.” 

“No, but you can't just walk in there, either. If you are killed, where would we be?” Arcann folded his arms stubbornly, immovable in his intent.

“Exactly so, Empress.” Quinn's declaration was made in a slightly less audacious manner, likely because he knew that he lacked Arcann's standing. “It is an incredible risk to take, with no reasonable guarantee that it would result in the freedom of Agent Shan or Lord Lyorek. This feels spontaneous, and while it is understandable that you wish to get them both back, I'm not sure this is the best way to go about it. I doubt that either of us would be willing to see you put yourself at such a risk without accompanying you.” 

Selirah saw the triumphant look in Quinn's eyes, and she fought down a surge of annoyance at his reliably obnoxious ability to be too clever for his own good. Even worse, the same look was mirrored in Arcann's face.“No, you are not going along, Major Quinn. And I don't want them to have time to spirit them away, out of our reach, because we cannot afford to simply leave assets in their possession.”

“Surely then, having a solid plan in place would be more likely to succeed, and would be far less dangerous to you. You are too vital to the Alliance for you to simply risk yourself like this. If you are going to insist upon going to the Republic base, why will you not at least take me with you to serve as medic? Why would you leave me behind even though I can be extremely helpful both for you, or to the people who have been Republic prisoners? Do you feel I am unqualified to assist you during a fight, for some reason?” Quinn inquired, his cool expression belied by the challenge in the dark blue gaze fixed on her face. She could see that he wanted her to admit that she was afraid of harm coming to him. He wanted her to say it, out loud, and concede that he still had a place with her, despite her recently thwarted attempt to send him away. She shook her head at him ever so slightly, and saw his jaw tighten, the muscles flexing under his pale skin. 

“It's not the time for that discussion, Major. You know I do not think you are unqualified in any way, or unable to assist. It's not about that.”

“There's no need for that discussion,” Arcann interjected, losing patience. “At all. Ever.”

Selirah closed her eyes, one hand rubbing her nose gently in mild exasperation. She took Arcann's arm, and pulled him aside, her other hand gesturing to Quinn to stay back. “Keella, now is not the time for this either. They have our Theron. Do you want to leave him there with the Republic so you can sulk here and be jealous of Quinn?” Her eyes lifted to his face, violet gaze meeting pale blue. She saw him glance at Quinn, and then meet her eyes. 

Arcann regarded her silently, and she could feel his thoughts, his emotions, surfacing and touching her mind in their bond. His jealousy.. that she could feel strongly. Uncertainty, nervousness, and worry for Theron. Mistrust of Quinn. But she could feel when his mind settled down, too, and became more focused. “I don't want to leave Theron there. He belongs with us,” he agreed, his deep voice pitched quiet, for her hearing only. “I just don't trust Quinn. He betrayed you. And don't say that I've done worse.. I wasn't your husband. I didn't do it when you trusted me. It's not the same.”

“It's not the same,” Selirah agreed softly. “You're right, keella. And I'll explain more about it when we have time to talk about it in depth. I know you don't trust him, and I understand why you don't. But there are reasons why I do trust him. We will talk about this, but for now? I want to get our Theron back.”

Arcann touched her shoulder, his hand resting on the heavy protective armor she wore. “You can't go there. I have a different idea, though. One that doesn't put you at risk, and will minimize the risk to Theron and Lyorek. Hear me out, love. We need to get him back, you're right. But not like this.” He saw the stubborn look in her eyes, and added pointedly, “Theron would not appreciate us trading him for you, Selirah.” 

She shook off his hand, angrily. But her gaze moved between Arcann's unyielding expression, and the similarly obstinate look on Quinn's face, and she drew a slow breath, forcing down her temper. “Tell me your idea, and I will consider it. But do not forget who is the ruler here, keella.”

“I would never dare think otherwise, Seli. I'm not challenging your leadership, only your safety if you pursue this plan as it is. Let me tell you what I'm thinking, instead...”

**Republic Base:**

Theron's door opened, and Kallyn came in with a stormy expression on her face. “Your friend is a … a...”

“Unrepentant hedonist?” Theron supplied helpfully, and laughed at the unguarded and astonished look on the Jedi's face. “Did you think I didn't really know him? That I wasn't actually friends with him?”

“How did you know what he'd... Nevermind. I'm hoping it was just a moment of weakness on the part of the Jedi who was assigned to watch him. But I don't know if I'm comfortable sending anyone else in there with him.” Kallyn rolled her eyes, sitting down in a chair with an exasperated sigh. “How did he get to him so quickly? It seems impossible. Jaxan is a model Jedi in every way, always has been, even in his training.”

Theron shrugged, still amused. “Lyorek often complains about his lack of strength, but when it comes to reading people, he is one of the most incredibly intuitive people I've ever seen. He's an attentive listener, and he genuinely seems to like nearly everyone that he meets. I'm not sure what it is about him, but he's so effortlessly charming that he's nearly irresistible.” 

“Is that so? Even to you?” Kallyn replied teasingly. 

“Oh, I can see the temptation, that's for certain. But I've always sidestepped his lazily offered flirtations, and he's never made a serious attempt to seduce me. I'm not quite sure who would win out there, to be truthful. You should see him when he's really turning on the charm,” Theron answered with a laugh. “He is a force of nature. Don't come down too hard on your fellow Jedi, Kallyn. Lyorek really is hard to say no to, and very few people seem to even want to refuse him anything. You have to admit that the Jedi upbringing makes you somewhat ill-prepared for a charm offensive by a handsome Sith.”

“I hadn't thought they -had- much charm, to be truthful. Scourge was so.. distant, in that way. I never looked at him and thought that way about him.” Kallyn shrugged, her eyes growing thoughtful. “He was fascinating to speak with, because of his long life, and his experiences. He had such unusual views on the world, and on Sith life. And I learned quite a few things from him that perhaps the order would prefer that I had not been told.” She glanced at Theron, smiling ruefully. “It is an ugly mirror to be held up to, when you realize you were the threat held over children to frighten them into good behavior. He told me that we are brainwashed. It was.. a difficult conversation, as were the ones following it. I still struggle with those lessons.”

“It might have been good for others to hear his thoughts as well, Kallyn. I know there is a lot of animosity, and with good reason, but.. I have lived with one of the most dreaded Sith alive for years now, and there is much to admire about her strength and pursuit of power. She doesn't do it at the cost of lives unnecessarily spent for her own glory, but then, she had a different path than some of them do. Perhaps she is not like the rest because of that, but.. there are many other Sith serving with the Alliance, and only a few of them are uncomfortable or a little scary to be around. The rest are people. They tell jokes, laugh, have families, loyalties, bonds, feel grief and pain... I can't look at them and just see monsters, now. And I wonder what it's like for Master Yariele and our other Jedi, realizing that the people they saw solely as destructive, violent murderers might not be exactly what they'd believed them to be.”

“It's a philosophical debate for people more clever than I am, I think. I know, though, that Scourge did not lie to me. He was right... there were things that are kept from us in our training. Things that are overly simplified, and even outright glossed over. It was a sobering lesson.” Kallyn sighed, rubbing her eyes with one hand. “Your Empress will not leave you with us for long, Theron. I know that. I can't justify throwing the amount of forces against her that it would likely take to keep you. Your mother will have to accept talking to you via holo. You are right about that. Shall we try to reach her?”

Theron nodded slowly, his hazel eyes troubled, and sad. “I always wanted her to want more of a relationship with me, you know. I spent most of my childhood thinking it was my fault. That because I wasn't good enough.. because I had no ability to sense the force.. she didn't want anything to do with me. It's hard not to feel resentful towards her. I know she thought she was doing the best thing for us both, in her way.” He shrugged his shoulders, and finished flatly, “She was wrong, on almost every level. But she never cared to ask my feelings on the matter, or my father's. Just made unilateral decisions that affected us all and destroyed any possibility of a normal life for any of us. And now, well..”

“I can't pretend to understand why Satele made the choices that she did, Theron, or whether they were the right ones. I understand why she didn't raise you, and... I know you won't agree with me on this.. but I think it didn't help her avoid attachment. She loves you, Theron. Her manner of showing it is perhaps not what you wanted,” she smiled at Theron's derisive snort of laughter. “I know. But I have seen her with you, and your mother loves you. We all make mistakes, Theron. Perhaps she realizes that.”

“Satele would never admit to making a mistake like that, Kallyn. She still only called me her agent, when I was in the Republic. Never her son. It was an open secret, but she refused to admit it out loud. I can't forgive her for that, or for keeping me from my father for so long.”

Kallyn keyed in the proper codes and activated the holo, her eyes fixed on the task at hand. “That is your choice to make, Theron. I'm not going to say if you are wrong or right, because it's not my decision. Just don't let it make you too resentful.”

“Yeah, well.. dark side or not, I still think it's my right to let myself feel the emotions that suit the situation.” Theron fell silent as the holo lit with the image of his mother, her greying hair in a series of large plaits. Her face, serene as always, wore its age lightly, and her eyes fell upon him with no surprise in them at all. “Hello, Satele,” he greeted.

“Grandmaster Satele, greetings,” added Kallyn politely, bowing her head. “I am sorry that I couldn't do everything that you asked, but Theron had some very valid points about the wisdom of antagonizing the owner of the Eternal Fleet with such an action. I don't doubt your reasons were important, but I cannot risk my soldiers here without a more significant reason.”

Satele's lips tightened ever so slightly, but she said calmly, “There is nothing to apologize for, Master Kallyn. I appreciate this opportunity to speak with Theron, even if it is not quite what I had hoped for. Will you excuse us? I would like to talk to him privately.”

Kallyn's green eyes moved from the holo device to Theron, in an almost comically obvious look of doubt. “Grandmaster.. I don't know if...”

“I am aware of your concerns, but perhaps Theron will make you some assurances as to his trustworthiness.”

Theron rolled his eyes, but shrugged a shoulder. “Sure, why not. I won't use it to call the Empress. I will talk to Satele, and then you can take the holo back.”

“As you wish, Grandmaster,” Kallyn said hesitantly, rising from her seat and exiting the room. As she moved down the hall towards the exit to the courtyard, she saw a Jedi dressed in ink-blue robes over cream leggings and a tunic, coming the other direction. The robes were belted firmly around her waist, and pulled up at the waist to blouse over the edge of the belt so that they didn't drag on the ground, and she wore dark silk gloves on her hands. A female soldier dressed in heavy Republic armor and a helmet trailed her, carrying a pair of worn blasters and a heavy rifle slung over her back. Kallyn nodded to the other Jedi, who smiled at her brightly and nodded in return as they passed, her blue eyes meeting the Battlemaster's gaze with warmth. 

For a moment, something nagged at Kallyn's thoughts about the other Jedi, who she wasn't certain that she recognized. But as she emerged into the courtyard and saw Jaxan pacing nervously, she pushed it from her mind, focusing on him. “Alright, Jaxan. Let's talk about what happened with the prisoner,” she said patiently, leading the younger Jedi away to a quiet corner where they could speak.

**Theron's Cell:**

“I wanted to speak to you sooner, and I know I should have done so, Theron. The moment that I knew your father was dead, I should have tried to contact you. I apologize for that.”

“Did you know he was coming here? Did you know he'd violated his promise not to encroach on the Alliance's territory?” Theron couldn't help the note of accusation that crept into his voice almost immediately. Looking at her, even like this, through a holo, made him feel so angry. “Why did you let him come here?”

“I couldn't have stopped him, Theron. Jace had his own duties, and he made his own choices about what was best for the Republic. He knew that we needed the riches there on Iokath, both technological and to support our struggling worlds.”

“You didn't answer me, Mother. Did you know he was coming here?” 

Satele frowned slightly, then conceded, “Yes, I knew months ago that he intended to explore Iokath and see if he could find anything that would help us defend ourselves. We are at vast disadvantage, Theron. I could hardly tell him that it was not something that he should consider. It's not as if I had any idea what would happen when he finally got there on the ground. I didn't know about the superweapon then.”

“Months ago? When... on Rishi? On Yavin? Did you know then? And you didn't think to warn me?” Theron felt his hands curl into fists, awash in the familiar pain of finding out that once again, he'd been the last to know about the decisions that affected him.

“What good would it have done to warn you? You would have just told your Sith,” Satele answered coolly. “That would hardly have served Jace's plans at all. At least this way, he had a chance to claim the technological advances, and once we knew about it.. the superweapon. It's not as if your .. allies.. in the Sith Empire didn't do the same thing.”

“I could have talked to her about it, maybe made a case for allying with the Republic. Instead, Jace promised not to step on her toes or attempt to take any of her territory, and then did exactly that, and you -knew- about it and let it happen behind my back.” Theron paced back and forth, rubbing his temples as a headache began to form, throbbing inside his skull. “You do this every time. You always think you know best, and you never let me in, and then you don't understand why I don't share things with you either. Why wouldn't she choose to ally with the Sith, when at least they came to our aid when we needed it, Mother?! I argued in favor of the Republic, and now you tell me that you knew months ago about this... this.. planned incursion onto a planet that was in our territory!”

“What do you want me to say about it, Theron? I've told you that I knew, which I did. It was not an easy decision, but Jace felt strongly that he could achieve his goals, and he hoped that he could do so without alerting your Empress to his presence. It didn't work out that way, and I'm sorry for that. Jace was a great man, despite his flaws.”

“His flaws? What, that he wanted to know his son? That he tried to have a relationship with me, even though it was too little, too late? You knew what he was going to do. You had a hand in his death,” Theron snapped angrily. He pressed his fingers against his temple, wincing at the pain. “He was trying to save the Republic, and instead, he had his aide sabotage the negotiations, and help him nearly wipe out everyone on this planet with that superweapon, just so he could claim it. Are you trying to say that the ends would have justified that kind of mass murder?”

Satele's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed, and she regained her self-possessed demeanor almost instantly. It was somehow still astonishing to Theron to watch her bury her feelings with such ease, even though he knew it shouldn't have been by now. “How do you know that would have been the result?”

“Because, I'd gone through the files and information about the weapon. I discovered how many people had been killed testing it. I saw the purpose of it. And before you say that Selirah would have wanted to use it, you need to know that she didn't. She tried to warn Jace, and so did I. We both tried to stop him. He tried to kill her, right in front of me, Mother. He told me I wasn't his son anymore,” Theron's voice broke painfully, and he sank down in Kallyn's chair, staring at the holo image of his mother. 

“Theron..” Satele began, and then her own voice faltered, and she looked down, away from him. “I'm sorry. You know he didn't mean that. He was never anything but proud of who you were. He couldn't understand how you could choose to leave the Republic, especially since it was to be at the side of a Sith who was his constant enemy in battle. Jace loved you, Theron. And he did it much better than I ever did. I'm sorry that my choices kept you apart for so long. And I'm sorry for what he said.. but I know that he didn't mean those words.” She hesitated for a moment, but when Theron remained silent, Satele continued quietly, “There was a side to him that worried me, even before you were born. I saw it in him, sometimes, a darkness. I don't mean to say that he was a bad person.. you know he was the furthest thing from that. I only tell you this to say that some part of him struggled with what was right, and that side may have said things that he didn't really mean or feel. He was lashing out, angry. Theron.. Jace would never have meant to hurt you. I know that to my very bones. I hope you do, too.”

Theron put his head in his hands, uncertain how to respond to what his mother was saying, or to the unexpected compassion that he heard in her voice. For once, she didn't sound disinterested, or aloof, or cold. She sounded... sad. As if she genuinely missed Jace, and was sorry for what had happened between them. After so long, and so many missed attempts to form any kind of link with Satele, Theron felt paralyzed by her words, and the open emotion in them. Why had it taken the death of his father to bring this out in her? “I know he loved me, on some level. But it was hard to hear him say what he did. He did hurt me. But he said he was sorry to me, before the end. He said to tell you that he was sorry too, and that I was right. I think he knew what he'd done was wrong.” Theron lifted his head, looking at his mother, and he could see the sorrow on her face; and even though he knew it was mostly for the loss of Jace, it still mattered that he could see it. That she felt something. “I hated seeing the regret on his face, and knowing that he died feeling that way.”

“It wasn't your fault, Theron. You tried to stop him, and you tried to explain what the weapon really did,” Satele replied, and the vaunted serenity that was much more familiar to Theron was back on her face, her grey eyes calm. “You cannot take responsibility for Jace's choices.”

“Or for yours, Mother. Selirah tried to stop him. She tried to stop me, too, because I wasn't going to let him kill her. She didn't want me to fight him. You always act like she's nothing but a Sith, but you know that's not everything she is. I wish you'd admit that, and accept that she is part of my life.” 

Satele sighed, and even that somehow seemed bored and detached. “I know that you have a different view of her. And I have not attempted to stand in the way of her advancement in the galaxy, not openly.”

“Openly. That covers a lot of sins, doesn't it?” Theron remarked sarcastically, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, trying to ease the ache in his head.

“Alright, Theron. You've made your point. I should have told you earlier about your father's plans. But it's past, now, and perhaps you could see your way clear to working on a better relationship between the Republic and your Empress.” Though it was couched as a mild request, Theron heard the expectant tone in his mother's voice.

“I wish that I thought I could, now. But I don't think she will be amenable to it. The Supreme Commander of your forces tried to kill her, and me, and all of her people, and his aide sabotaged a meeting with me, Lana, and several others in it. No, Mother.. I think you've made the Republic's bed when it comes to Selirah now, and you're going to have to lie in it.” A knock sounded at the door, and Theron continued tiredly, “I guess that's the warning that time is up. I'm grateful that you were reasonable about the holo call. It was a pleasant surprise. In the future, if you want to talk to me.. try sending me a message before you go straight to the snatch and grab, will you?”

“I'll keep it in mind. And Theron..I am sorry about your father. I hope you believe that.” Her image winked out, and Theron stared at the empty space for a moment more before he turned away towards the door.

But it wasn't Kallyn out in the corridor. “Theron, let's go. We're breaking you out!” Nox sang out, bouncing on her small booted feet. For some reason, she was wearing Yariele's robes, and they looked slightly ridiculous on the diminutive Inquisitor, like she was a small, malevolent child wearing adult clothing. The sleeves hung far down her arms, and she'd bagged the extra length of the tall Jedi's robes up over her belt. Lyorek stood behind her, his lightsaber hilt in his hand and a cheeky smile on the Zabrak's lips. 

“Is it just you, Nox?” Theron asked incredulously, glancing up and down the hallway. A woman came around the corner, dressed in full Republic armor, carrying a scout's gear in her arms. 

“Of course not,” Nox scoffed, waving at the woman in a 'hurry up' gesture. “Put this on. We can't walk out the gate without you looking like you're allowed to leave.” The armored woman handed him the gear, and then stood in the hallway, waiting patiently, arms crossed. Nox slapped her heavily armored shoulder, her smile widening. “Who knew Alyxia'd look so nice in white and orange, eh?”

Alyxia made a derisive noise inside the helmet. “Trash armor, gonna get holed the first time someone shoots at me. Can't wait to have my own gear back on. Good to see you, Theron,” she added, sourly, the helmet turning so that she presumably could look directly at him. 

“Good to see you too, in a manner of speaking.” He pulled on the scout gear, stuffing his jacket and boots into a shoulder bag that Alyxia handed him silently. He debated briefly over the holoprojector that Kallyn had left, but chose to leave it behind. Nox and Lyorek were in the hall, bickering while the Zabrak stuffed his tall frame into another set of scout gear, and Theron figured now wasn't the best time to complain about his headache, so he said nothing of it, following them down the hall. 

They headed out into the courtyard together, Nox and Lyorek chatting to each other animatedly, and Theron saw Kallyn standing with another Jedi. She was talking quietlyly to him, standing before the young man. He looked abashed, his head in his hands, sitting on a bench. Theron felt a twinge of guilt at the way he was leaving; Kallyn was his friend, and she had always only meant him well. She hadn't even had a chance yet to examine him, or talk to him about his headaches, and he knew she truly wanted to help. 

Theron knew Selirah. She had sent Nox, and Alyxia, and this was her one 'quiet' attempt. But he knew she would have wanted to come herself to get him, and if Nox failed, the next visit to the Republic base would be entirely different in tone. Kallyn could be killed, or could kill Seli, and neither option was palatable to him. Better to sneak out like this, than have to come between thousands of years of enmity between two powerful opponents. So he turned his back and followed them. Nox, still in her cheerful mood, slapped one of the guards on the back as she passed. Lyorek was laughing. And as they walked out of the base, looking like a small scouting group heading out on a mission, Theron pushed down the guilt, rubbed his aching temples, and trotted a little faster to catch up with Alyxia. 

By the time the alarm klaxons sounded, their little group was long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a rough weekend, but as usual, I find it kind of soothing to write. 
> 
> This chapter actually got axed all the way up to the initial conversation, and that got a rewrite, and then the rest of the chapter is entirely different from the first version. I can't begin to say why sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. But I went to bed last night with it all finished except polish, and woke up and deleted it. ;) 
> 
> Anyway, there it is.


	85. King of Wishful Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn gets a pep talk from Darth Nox and Lord Lyorek.
> 
> The exodus to Odessen begins.
> 
> Lyorek finds a lost.. puppy. He wants to keep it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Iokath Spoilers:**
> 
>  
> 
> This is your pre-pre update warning. I think I have one, maybe two at most chapters before I will get to the new content in the latest update.
> 
> I will warn in this note section when I'm there, for anyone who doesn't want to see spoilers/info.
> 
> Gird your loins.

**Iokath, Nox's Office:**

Rubbing his eyes, Quinn looked down at the notes he had taken, making certain they were accurate. He was tired, to say the least, and Darth Nox showed no signs of slowing down. She'd been in and out three times, leaving more for him to transcribe. He worked carefully and quickly, trying to keep from wondering about the content of the rituals and old tales he was recopying for her records. 

“Why aren't you doing something about this situation?” Nox's voice came from behind him, and Quinn set down his stylus, turning slightly in his chair to face her. The Inquisitor stood in the doorway, her shoulder propped up against the side of the jamb, watching him curiously from large blue eyes. “With the Empress.”

Quinn felt his jaw tighten, frustration washing over him. “You know perfectly well that there is nothing that I can do, my lord. If I push her on this, she will just ship me off again, and she would have every right and authority necessary to do it.” He shifted the items on his desk uneasily, stacking the datapads and piles of notes more neatly. “I do not want to give her a reason to see me gone. That will eliminate any chance at all.”

“Doing nothing is having the same effect,” Nox noted coolly, entering the room. Her booted feet were quiet in the floor, the dark robes swirling around her ankles. Her gloved hand picked up his notes, and she examined them carefully. “I don't even think the three of them have been seen all day today, so.. here you sit, writing dry translations for me, while she's tangled up in bed with Theron and Arcann for hours. In what galaxy do you imagine the outcome of that is going to be her coming back to -you-?” Her gaze moved over him pointedly, with an amused gleam in the blue eyes. “Why would she be interested in someone who lets her push him aside? That flies in the face of the central tenet of our entire governing system.”

“Our -former- governing system,” Quinn pointed out, knowing that he was being pedantic, but feeling stung. “We are not a part of the Sith Empire now, my lord. I do take your point, however, I'm not certain what I am supposed to propose as an alternative path. She is, as you have astutely pointed out, Sith, and powerful, and our Empress. What recourse do I have? I am none of those things.”

Nox perched on his desk, legs crossed. She folded her hands neatly on her knee, the gloved fingers interlocked. “Fortune favors the brave, Major. If she does not have to acknowledge your place, then she can duck any resolution with you for as long as she wishes. I don't doubt that she can get into those neatly pressed pants of yours any time she likes.. I can't begin to think that you say no to her,” she noted with an amused tone in her voice. “She's getting what she wants, without giving you anything that you want. Why should she threaten her relationship with them for more with you, when you indulge her desire for you every time she beckons?”

“You seem to think that I would want to say no to being with her whenever I have the chance, and I don't, my lord. Of course I want more. I want everything. But I know why I'm in this position now, and it isn't because I'm devoid of fault in what happened between us. In fact, everything, and every reason we were apart when she was on Darth Marr's flagship, is because of me.” Quinn shrugged, but it was a struggle to maintain a calm demeanor in this subject, talking about the things that still hurt with a bone-deep pain. He hated himself for his weakness. If he had been willing to risk his life to refuse Darth Baras... if he'd refused to attack the woman that he loved. If he'd done anything differently than what he -had- done, things could have been so completely different. 

“Oh, nonsense.” Nox made a dismissive gesture with one hand before folding it demurely back on her knee with the other. “You can't flog yourself over that forever, as convenient as it is to use it as an excuse to dwell in a perpetual state of inaction.” One leg swung back and forth, idly. “It happened, it's over, it's done. It certainly led to this ridiculous situation that you're in, of course, I'm not denying that. But it was years ago, and you will never need to be in such a conundrum ever again. Baras is dead, and your -wife-,” she added emphatically, meeting Quinn's gaze and holding it, “is not. As I said before, fortune favors the brave. Stop being a coward. It's depressing to watch.”

“It really is,” added another voice, this one male. Lyorek smiled cheekily at Quinn from the doorway, before he entered and flopped comfortably against the side of the desk opposite Nox. With both of them looking at him, Quinn felt a little bit like a piece of soon-to-be-devoured meat between two very hungry manka cats, but of the two, at least Lyorek felt slightly less dangerous. “I'd feel sorry for you if it wasn't so very amusing to watch you try so hard not to do anything to annoy our Illustrious Leader and her very handsome companions. They really are quite good looking, both of them. Don't you think?” 

Nox made a face somewhere between disgusted and irritated. “You think everyone is good looking, so at this point, it's hardly flattery,” she noted acerbically, and given what he'd seen of the Zabrak so far, Quinn couldn't dredge up any kind of argument against her point, even if it was somewhat nastily stated. “I could prop up a shooting range target in front of you and you'd take it to bed inside of a half an hour.”

“I'm hurt, Nox. It wouldn't take me -that- long,” Lyorek shot back, giving Quinn a langorous wink of one golden-red eye. “And it's not true that I find everyone equally attractive. They all have their positives and negatives, and when it comes to our nosy agent and moody prince, their attractiveness is definitely high on the list of positives. That said, of course..” and his attention focused abruptly on Quinn's face, examining the sharp planes of his cheekbones, and his finely drawn features; the dark blue, black-lashed eyes, lingering over the shape of his lips with a very excessive level of intrigue. “You're quite pretty yourself, Major Quinn. She wouldn't be trading down, if she took you back in a more.. permanent sense.”

Quinn managed not to roll his eyes at Lyorek, but only just, and only because he knew that it was overstepping his position to assume such familiarity with a Sith of any stripe, powerful or not. “I am glad that I meet with your approval, such as it is, though as Darth Nox has stated, it can be easily argued that your approval is fairly freely offered.”

“Ouch,” Lyorek replied, putting a hand to his chest and managing a creditable look of shock and faux pain. “Direct hit. Struck by those glorious eyes. If you ever get tired of pining after our beautiful and overtaxed leader, consider yourself given an open invitation to pine after me. No waiting. I'm very efficient.” 

Nox laughed, and pushed Lyorek's shoulder, nearly sending him to the ground with the force-imbued shove, and he stumbled away, giving her a sly grin. “You're hopeless. Only you would think that the revolving door of your bedroom is a positive trait and something to offer as a plus to poor Quinn here. I don't think he's interested.” She arched one blonde brow, her eyes glittering with humor and something darker that Quinn averted his eyes from carefully. “Pity. If he was, that'd probably help him quite a bit in winning over Theron, if not Arcann. Think on what I've said, Quinn. Fortune favors the brave, not the patient or fearful. Now go, take a break.. you've been at this for hours, and you'll start to make mistakes if you don't take some time off. Lyorek can take your place for a while.”

Quinn took the advice and got up quickly, bowing to both of the Sith and exiting the room to the accompaniment of Lyorek's noisy complaints about being drafted into secretarial duty.

He had to admit that Nox had been correct, though. He'd needed rest. After a brief nap in his quarters had refreshed his exhausted brain, Quinn felt ready to take on the world, and even take on Selirah. But the moment he stepped out into the base, he found it a flurry of activity. Cases were being moved with an obvious intent to take them off-planet, and when he went to check her quarters, her things were nearly all packed. From his view of the doorway, he could see Theron at his computer terminal, and Selirah curled up in his lap, one arm tucked loosely around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. He could hear them talking softly to each other, and Theron laughing at something she'd said, but it was beyond even his curiosity to try to listen in on them. Coming by here had been invasive enough. 

Emerging back into the buzzing hive of the base, he nearly ran into Pierce, who was directing the exodus. “What is going on?” Quinn asked. 

“She's going to Odessen. Most of the important staff will be going with her. We have enough forces here to hold things, and the search for the traitor is priority,” Pierce answered distractedly, pausing to yell at one of the soldiers. “Not there, over THERE, you idiot git! It needs to go on the shuttle for the Empress!” He glanced down at Quinn curiously. “Nox didn't tell you? She's known for hours.”

“Of course she didn't. Wait.. she's not staying behind, is she?”

Pierce laughed, patting Quinn on the shoulder. “Don't worry yourself, Major. Your new boss is going with your old boss. We'll all be one big happy family back on Odessen, at least till we figure out what is what with all of this business. I can't imagine it'll be any of us, anyway. Who would want to turn on her?” He paused, and Quinn could almost feel the response coming, so he wasn't surprised when the bulky soldier cast him a sly look and finished, “Other than you, that is. Don't look at me like that, Quinn! It was a joke. You know she's forgiven you. Wait, what's that idiot doing now?” Pierce stalked away towards the hapless soldier moving the larger crates, and Quinn turned to head back inside. 

He was going to Odessen after all. But not alone, at least.

**Iokath (Lyorek):**

Directing the last of Melisande's research materials to load onto the shuttles, Lyorek perched on a crate, legs crossed. One of the Alliance technicians came by, and leaned in, whispering in his ear. His eyes widened appreciatively, and he smiled at her, filching the pastry she was holding straight out of her hand. “Thanks, beautiful. I look forward to your rotation back to Odessen, so you can show me exactly how you -do- that particular thing,” he told her, taking a bite of the pastry. Sweet and slightly spicy, the flavor exploded deliciously on his tongue, and he hummed softly to himself as he watched her go, her hips swinging with the consciously inviting motion of someone who knew they were being observed. 

With so many of the base coming and going, the number of people that Lyorek recognized versus those he had only seen once or twice were both fairly high. Rather than get sucked back into working (and Nox had been annoyingly industrious for the last week or two), the Zabrak stayed where he was, lounging comfortably on a forgotten crate with a good view of the courtyard. People-watching was one of his favorite pastimes, with good reason. Admittedly, the number of people that he had never slept with in the Alliance was starting to dwindle down to “People involved with his direct bosses” and “That new guy that had the weird haircut”, and a few other undesirables for various reasons. 

He watched a few heavily muscled troopers wrestling a heavy stasis crate into one of the shuttles for a while, making mental notes to remember to introduce himself to the one with the gorgeous smile, and then caught sight of someone who had just disembarked from the tram. Tall and slim, with blonde hair and brown eyes, the young man looked like he had no idea where he was going. He wasn't wearing an Alliance uniform, either, and Lyorek squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at his face. Opening himself to the force, he probed the other man, and then blinked, startled. 

Unfolding his legs, Lyorek circled around the outside edges of the courtyard, using the frenetic activity to cover his movement. He came up behind the intruder, and stuck his lightsaber hilt in his back. “Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, Jedi.” 

The threatening tone clearly worked. The intruder froze in surprise, and it was obvious that he knew exactly what was pressed against his spine. “Don't! I swear I'm not here to cause any trouble. I'm looking for...” He turned slightly, and Lyorek looked into the familiar brown eyes of the Jedi from the Republic camp, meeting the other man's gaze with a bemused smile. 

“Well, I flatter myself that you're looking for -me-, actually.” Lyorek pulled his saber away, hanging it back on his belt and leaning against the wall. “What are you doing here? I am quite serious.. they're not going to look upon this little infiltration positively. And you might be deceiving yourself if you think I have the power to protect you.” He folded his arms across his chest, watching the Jedi with interest. He'd had a Jedi's hood and robes on before, so he hadn't had the opportunity to get a good look at him beyond those meltingly soft brown eyes. Blonde hair was cut short, with a bit more length on top, and his face was handsome, with prominent cheekbones and a strong jaw. Definitely a pleasant sight, Lyorek mused, even if Nox or Selirah was likely to send him home in pieces if they saw him here.

“I was looking for you. I mean.. not.. in a weird way, or anything,” Jaxan told him awkwardly, a charming blush coloring his golden-tan cheeks. “We didn't get a chance to finish..”

“Screwing?”

“-Talking-!” Jaxan looked scandalized, but Lyorek saw those sweet brown eyes drop to his mouth, and he smiled lazily in response, hearing the truth behind what the Jedi was willing to admit to. “I meant the talking. The rest was.. I mean.. it was.. I shouldn't have done that. I overstepped, and I'm sorry.”

“I'm not. Well.. perhaps I am a little sorry,” Lyorek replied in a teasing drawl. “Because I certainly wish we hadn't gotten interrupted. However, you've arrived on rather a poor day for a visit and a tour of the facilities, I'm afraid. So what exactly were you hoping to accomplish here? Finding Theron Shan? Returning him to the Battlemaster? Because I'm pretty sure the Empress would not be in favor of that idea, and she outranks me considerably.”

Jaxan managed a nervous little laugh, his tenor voice wavering slightly. “No, I am not here for Theron Shan. What you said to me, about the Alliance. I thought about it, and about everything else that happened after we met.” Again, the adorable blush lit his cheeks, but there was nothing cute about the heat in his brown eyes, suggestive and more than a little seductive to Lyorek's gaze. “I want to join the Alliance. Please.”

Lyorek's eyes widened, the red-gold glimmering with surprise. “You want to what? Join...” For once, he found himself unsure of what to say, or how to react, and it caught him completely unprepared. “Are you quite mad? There's no way they'll believe that you're not a spy, or that you're not here to cause harm to Theron. Selirah will kill you. She adores Shan, despite his rather undesirable family connections and Republic background. No offense intended, of course.”

“None taken. But... she can look, test my words. I swear to you, I mean everything I'm saying. I want to join, for my own wishes, not because I've been sent here to earn your trust. Lyorek, please, I'm not lying.” Jaxan came closer, narrowing the distance between them. Lyorek unfolded his arms, letting them fall to his sides as the Jedi came up between his booted feet, standing nearly against him, with the Zabrak caught between him and the wall. “They can check out my words any way that they want. They'll find out that I'm telling the truth.” 

The earnestness of the soft, long-lashed brown eyes was almost impossible to ignore, and Lyorek bit his lower lip, gazing into the handsome face. He hadn't Nox's arcane skills, or Selirah's brute power, it was true, but he saw people for who they were. There was truth in Jaxan's face, and in his demeanor, his artless presentation. “I'll talk to them for you,” he said, and the decision hadn't been made until that moment, when he said the words. But once they were out, they felt right, and he nodded decisively. “I'll take care of it. They'll give you a chance. Everyone here came from the Empire, or the Republic, and joined because they believed in what we were fighting for. As long as you're sincere, they'll accept you.”

Jaxan smiled, an open, warm expression, and Lyorek laughed, tucking his hand into the other man's and pulling him closer. “Don't worry, I don't expect anything,” Jaxan told him earnestly. “Just a chance to prove myself, and to see if the Alliance is everything that you said. And maybe..” He paused, and blushed pink, ducking his head shyly. It took everything Lyorek had not to just kiss him, but he let the Jedi finish, with admirable patience. “Maybe have a chance to get to know you a little better too?”

“We can definitely make sure -that- happens,” Lyorek replied, leaning up on his toes, lips meeting Jaxan's boldly. His hands curved around the Jedi's hips, and he spun him around, pressing him up against the wall, his body leaning against the other man's, his hands tightening. Jaxan gasped into his mouth, but parted his lips for the kiss, eagerly returning it with an amazingly sexy amount of passion. 

There was a few hours before they left for Odessen. They might as well make the most of the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in the affected area for the hurricane though not in the direct path, so.. I wanted to get this up before Armageddon. ;) 
> 
> With luck, we won't get hit -too- bad, but I'm prepared and hunkered down for no power and all that fun stuff. 
> 
> Be good to each other, and I'll be back as soon as possible! Be careful, anyone who is in the area that is getting this storm. It's a pretty strong one and it's looking like we could be in for some bad flooding in a lot of areas. Take care of yourselves, make sure you have fresh water, flashlights, candles, blankets, weather radios. 
> 
> Don't pet the alligators.
> 
> <3


	86. Safe and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann and Theron are feeling rowdy in the morning and Selirah leaves them to it.
> 
> There might be feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Umbara Spoilers?** Not yet. Soon.
> 
> Not gonna lie, this is smut, but there's actual plot in there too, I swear.
> 
> This chapter was half-written a while ago, but I put it aside to use later, and this is where it belongs. 
> 
> Thanks to my two assistants, who kept me on task when I was pulling out my hair in frustration. ;) You two are awesome. <3

Settling back into life on Odessen after the insane pace of Iokath seemed like it should be more difficult than it had proven to be. But they'd arrived at midday, and immediately spent a huge chunk of time overseeing the disembarking of crew, staff, and tons of materials and supplies. When Theron finally got to see Selirah and Arcann, they were both looking specifically for him, and there was no mistaking the look in her eyes for anything other than a very clear indication that it was time to turn in for the night. There was no refusing her when she was in a mood like this, not that Theron had any particular wish to say no, and it was obvious that Arcann didn't either.

They'd all made it to their room. Barely. There'd been a moment or two in the corridor when Theron had been sure that Selirah would have his pants down and simply screw him right there in the hall for everyone to see, and it would have been just fine with him after all the problems and stresses that had faced them all on Iokath. As it was, she'd had his jacket and shirt on the floor the minute they were inside the door, and had pushed him down onto the couch, her hands sliding his pants down over his hips. Arcann laughed at her impatience, pulling her armor off with a lazier deliberation, taking his time to touch, or kiss, or bite every inch of skin that he exposed, his pale blue eyes alight with the heat of lust and passion that echoed the look in Selirah's gaze when she looked at either of them. 

From the couch, to the floor, then finally to the bed, the rest of the night had been a blur of naked skin and hot, sweaty, satisfying sex that had wrung all the energy out of all three of them, and now.. now as he opened his eyes, Theron realized it -must- be late morning. All of them had missed morning appointments, meetings, and more, and no one seemed to care about it but him. He shook Selirah's shoulder gently, and she growled at him and put her pillow over her head. Trying Arcann next, all he got for his trouble was a sleepy, “It can wait, Theron,” as the prince rolled over halfway on top of him, one thigh pinning Theron's hips firmly down to the bed. He thought Arcann had just gone back to sleep, but a moment later, he felt lips on his shoulder, trailing slowly up to his neck. Theron shivered in pleasure, feeling his body stir in response, and he discovered that he wasn't quite as exhausted as he'd thought, given the right stimulus. Teeth closed on his throat, a gentle bite, and Theron twisted over onto his side, his hands sliding over Arcann's hip to his narrow waist, feeling the bunch and flex of the bands of muscle over the bigger man's ribs and back with a rush of awakening desire. 

“You two couldn't just let me sleep. Why do men always wake up with their engines already running?” grumbled Selirah from behind him, but he could hear the amusement in her voice, and she pressed against Theron from behind, kissing the back of his shoulder, her lips wetly brushing over the line of his spine.

Arcann nipped Theron's collarbone, lightly. “You can sleep if you want. I think I can satisfy our Theron just fine on my own,” he answered mockingly, and she glared at him over Theron's shoulder in equally playful threat. “And myself, as well.” Arcann's hips thrust suggestively against Theron's, and he could feel the hard length of the prince's cock slide against his, making him draw in a sharp, aroused breath. “Isn't that so, Theron?”

“Mmm,” agreed Theron, words deserting him as Selirah's clever fingers closed around his cock from behind, squeezing and stroking him firmly with little flicking twists of her hand that drove him crazy with need. “I really need to... ohhh stars, keep doing that.. get kidnapped more often,” he managed, his voice breathless. 

Arcann leaned up on his elbow, and Selirah leaned in, kissing him over Theron's shoulder, her free hand sliding into Theron's hair, tugging his head back gently. Her lips touched his ear next, teeth nipping his earlobe. “I'd prefer if you didn't, love. Nothing terrifies me like the thought of losing one of you. For any reason.” He was torn between the delicious sensation of her teeth and mouth on his ear and the emotion in her words, because she sounded suddenly very serious, despite the things her hand was doing to him. “I would be lost without you, Theron. You know that.”

He saw Arcann's expression then, and realized it was relief on the prince's face, too. “You were worried, too?” Theron asked him, surprised.

“I..” Arcann cast around for the right words, and as Selirah lay her cheek against his shoulder, Theron could feel her smiling faintly. He realized that she could feel whatever Arcann was feeling, and probably knew what he was struggling to say, and felt a little jealous (as he often found himself when it came to the intimacy of their bond) that he didn't have that automatic insight into either of them. “I was very worried, and anxious for your safe return, Theron,” the prince finished solemnly, his deep voice warm with unexpected affection. “I think that perhaps I would not like to lose you, either.. somewhat despite myself.”

“Careful,” Theron said lightly, trying to ease the mood for Arcann's sake, because it was clear that the prince felt out of his depth from the wary look in the beautifully clear blue eyes that weren't quite meeting his eyes directly. “I'm going to start to think you might like me.” It made Arcann smile, at least, though he still looked as if he was holding something back. 

Selirah slid her fingers slowly over Theron's cock from root to tip, then released him, propping her cheek up on her fist where she lay, watching them both with avid violet eyes. “He does like you, love. Almost as much as I do. Don't you, keella?” she asked, her voice gentle. “I'm a little sore, still,” she added. “So I think I'm going to take care of the work we missed this morning. I'll be back later.” She leaned in and kissed them both, one after the other, and then slid out of bed, getting dressed. “I love you.”

Theron could see the pointed glance that Arcann gave Selirah as she left the room, and knew she was lying about her reason for leaving, but he knew why she was doing it as well, and was not about to refuse the moment of intimacy together. He brought one hand up to Arcann's cheek, fingers brushing over the rough skin of his scars, stroking through the short, blonde hair that he wore cropped close to his head. “So..” he asked, hesitantly, his fingers sliding back to the nape of the prince's neck, and over the muscles of his shoulders, “do you?”

“Do I what?” Arcann's bemused look dropped from Theron's eyes to his mouth, and he pushed Theron onto his back, moving over him. His weight pinned him down to the bed, hip to hip, and Theron could feel Arcann's erection pressed against him as the prince's mouth touched his throat, moving down over his chest with a lazy lack of haste, tasting his skin. The sensation was distracting in the extreme, and Theron closed his eyes, his hand resting on the back of Arcann's head and the other knotted in the bedsheets as a delicious sense of anticipation unfurled low in his belly. 

“Like me? Almost as much as Seli does?” The question came out on a thready, indrawn gasp of pleasure at the same moment as Arcann's teeth closed on the inside of Theron's hip, making him twitch helplessly at the sharp pressure of the bite. “I know you probably don't want to answer, or even.. maybe.. talk about it at all. You don't have to answer. And if you do, we don't have to talk about it ever aga..” 

Another bite, this one on the inner thigh, silenced Theron very effectively, and Arcann laughed at the shocked noise he made, pale blue eyes lifting to meet hazel. “You talk too much.” For a moment, it seemed likely that this was the only response he was going to give, and Arcann's hands guided Theron's thighs further apart, as he leaned in and ran his tongue along the skin of Theron's stomach, watching his belly tense at the tickling, wet touch. His fingers closed around Theron's cock, stroking the length of him in a long, deliberate, firm stroke, and Theron's hips lifted slightly in response, thrusting himself into the touch. “I do, Theron. How could I not? You seem to work your way into everyone's affections, whether we want you to or not.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “I wish I knew how to be as easy to like as you are.”

Theron bit back a shuddering groan, knowing that Arcann was deliberately trying to distract him from the conversation. And it was working. It was awfully hard to put together a coherent thought with his hands where they were. But he hated letting the discussion end on that note, when Arcann had always been so aloof with his feelings. He was only open about them with Seli, and that usually through their bond, where it was only between them. To have him openly say that he cared about Theron, especially to admit that he was starting to care about him more than he'd thought he would, was huge. “It doesn't matter that you're not easy to know,” he managed, his breathing coming quickly as the prince's fingers tightened on him, growing more insistent, stroking him in long, rough caresses with his right hand. “You're definitely worth the work that it takes to find out what is behind all those walls you like to put up.”

The prince slid his body against Theron's, bracing himself over him with his hands, looking down at him with his ice blue eyes. The scars that tangled over the left side of his face didn't detract from his looks, at least, not as far as Theron was concerned. All they did was make him look dangerous, which was absolutely truth in advertising, redemption notwithstanding. They looked at each other for a moment, and Arcann's lips quirked slightly upwards into a half-smile. “Most would not care to try. And you have plenty of reason not to like me, Theron.”

“I did, yes. But you would never let any harm come to her, I know that now. That's important to me,” Theron told him, his eyes dropping to the sardonic curve of Arcann's lips, letting his desire for the other man wash over him. “That you take care of her, and love her. Even if you don't love me.” 

Arcann bent, his chest inches from Theron's, lips a breath apart. “I would die before I would let anyone hurt her, because I love her,” he agreed, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, the sound of it impossibly arousing to Theron. “And I'm not sure what to call this.. what I feel. For you. Maybe it's not quite love. But I would do my best to defend you too, Theron. She loves you so much, I can't help but feel some of it myself when I am around you.” His smile widened, and the icy eyes warmed. His mouth touched Theron's slowly, his heavily muscled body pinning him down to the bed. 

The kiss was lingering, and surprisingly sweet. Theron closed his eyes and let the sensation of Arcann's mouth and body against his take over his thoughts. He knew it was an incredibly significant thing for the other man to tell him as much as he had, or admit to the change in his affection for him. Their relationship had been so slow to form, over a thousand nights spent tangled together, with Selirah between them, the link that bound them. It'd formed over a thousand conversations, and tens of thousands of moments. Moments where they'd learned to rely on each other, to lean on each other; to trust each other. And maybe even to love each other. It ached, somewhere deep inside, to think of the value of what he held in his hands right now, and how much Arcann's quiet admission had mattered.

He could see a future with the three of them, together, and until today, he'd never thought that Arcann might even picture it the same – much less want to have the same future that he did. And there was so much more yet ahead of them, so many things to face and test themselves against. Theron's hands tightened on Arcann's shoulders, fingers gliding down over the shifting muscles in his back, feeling the prince's hips rock in a slow grind against his. There was such an enticing difference in the times when he was with Arcann, the contrast between Selirah's softer body and the harder planes of another man's body with his; Theron loved both experiences, and both sets of sensations.

Twined together with him, Arcann slid his thigh between Theron's, rolling them both over onto their sides, facing each other. He withdrew from the kiss, far enough to watch the other man's hazel eyes open slowly, seeing the desire written so openly on Theron's face. Sometimes, even when Selirah wasn't with them, he still felt like he was looking at Theron through her eyes, seeing what she saw. Even feeling what she felt. It didn't make him jealous anymore, knowing how much she loved Theron, and what he meant to her. He was the peacemaker between them, the one who always found the solutions. Theron was their center. Some of what he felt when he looked at Theron was Selirah's deep bond with the former Republic agent, but some of it was purely his own affection for Theron, formed slowly over the time since he'd first fallen in love with Seli. He still couldn't really put a word to it, and he didn't want to try. 

Theron was smiling at him, and Arcann had to make an effort not to smile back, the expression as infectious as always. He slid his cybernetic fingers into the dark brown hair at the nape of Theron's neck, pulling him close instead, his mouth meeting the other man's lips roughly. The languid, lazy caresses from before were gone, replaced with demand, and Theron surrendered to Arcann's insistence without complaint, his hands growing less gentle as well. Tangled together, they kissed for long moments, and distantly, Arcann could feel Selirah's amusement and pleasure, her knowledge that they were enjoying their time together. There was a time that she would have resented this, been jealous of it, but he knew intimately that she felt very differently about them being together now, or he wouldn't have wanted it so badly, and wanted Theron the way he did. But Theron's yielding to him was painfully exciting, and Arcann didn't examine too closely the reason why he felt that way about it. 

Instead, he gripped Theron's hair, bending his head back like Selirah had done to him earlier, admiring the line of his tanned throat, trailing bites down the skin, watching Theron shudder. He felt Theron's hand close around him, his fingers strong and sure. His fingers were slick, slippery with the warm-cold lube that Arcann hadn't even heard him open in his preoccupation, and they slid over his cock slowly, teasing him into thrusting his hips forward, pushing into Theron's touch. Taking Theron's hand with his right hand, he slid his fingers through the thick fluid, his thigh guiding Theron's legs apart, and his weight pushing the other man onto his back. Kneeling between Theron's knees, he leaned over him, his cybernetic hand bearing his weight easily. His fingers slipped against Theron's skin, sliding lower deliberately, and he worked one finger into him, watching Theron's eyes drift half-closed, a soft groan escaping his lips. A second finger slowly joined the first, and he ground his hips against him from above, his shaft sliding wetly against Theron's. Arcann's hand rocked slowly against him, and Theron's hips lifted in answer, arching in helpless pleasure. 

Arcann bit his lower lip, his hand guiding his slick cock into the tight entrance, hearing Theron's indrawn breath. He slid his legs around Arcann's hips, feeling them flex against his thighs when he pushed deeper. Theron closed his eyes completely for a moment, letting go of everything weighing on his mind. He could feel Arcann pull back, then thrust into him, and he opened his eyes again, not wanting to close out the visual. It was unusual for the prince to initiate anything with him this way, much less to do so when Selirah had left them, and Theron wasn't about to miss any of it. Not the look of pain mixed with pleasure on Arcann's handsome, scarred face, or the way his icy eyes darkened with desire when he looked down at Theron, and not the way his hand had slid between their bodies to stroke Theron's cock with firm, demanding caresses, ungentle but deeply pleasurable. 

Breath coming shorter and faster with each deep thrust, Arcann's shoulders tightened, his back muscles bunching and releasing under Theron's hands. He held off as long as he could, wanting to get Theron there as close to his own climax as he could, but once the moment came, the control slipped from his hold. He didn't know if Theron came first, or if it was him, but it hardly mattered as the pleasure slammed into him. Theron shuddered under him, spilling over Arcann's fingers, and his hips jerked once, thrusting hard, burying himself inside him as the release washed over him like a wave. He bit back a low moan, but most of the sound escaped him anyway, and he saw Theron's satisfied smile through slitted eyes. 

He felt a desperate desire to tell Theron, to admit that he felt something more, that maybe it was even serious. Looking at him as he slumped beside him, their bodies still joined, Arcann wanted to say something. To give Theron more than he'd been able to admit to before. But something stopped him, silenced his tongue. An instinct froze the words, and he said nothing, just pulled Theron closer against him, and laid with him, exhausted and replete with pleasure. There would be other times to tell him, Arcann reasoned to himself. He could find the courage another day. Of all people.. Theron would certainly understand how hard it was to lay yourself open emotionally for someone else. He felt Theron's arms tighten around him, and he closed his eyes, letting the thoughts drift when sleep began to beckon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still kinda.. mid.. tropical storm, and it's not stopped raining in days, and a tornado clipped a nearby subdivision, so I'm writing so I don't go crazy, basically. ;) This is what happens when I'm bored and moody.


	87. Don't Fight The Feelin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyo and Jaxan get under Nox's skin with their cuteness.
> 
> Arcann and Lyorek have a productive spar.
> 
> Lyorek and Jaxan overhear a conversation that wasn't intended for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Umbara Spoilers:** I said not yet! .. probably the next chapter. Gird your loins.

**Nox's Office (Odessen):**

Nox rolled her eyes dramatically. “Why did you bring -that- with you?” 

The 'that' in question was Jaxan, and Lyorek wasn't quite sure how to answer the question or respond to Nox's obvious annoyance at first, because the truth was that he had categorically failed to dislodge the shy Jedi with his usual ghosting routine after they'd arrived back on Odessen. Jaxan always seemed to find him, and he was so obviously happy to see him that Lyo felt terrible if he didn't spend -some- time with him. And then, well.. time spent together turned into more time spent in bed, and now here he was, with a sweetly patient blonde shadow behind him. “You needed more hands, and I'm sure Jaxan can acquit himself quite well when it comes to research or helping with translations, Nox.” 

“Ugh,” Nox opined succinctly, giving Jaxan an incredibly disdainful glance. “Why couldn't you have located my Khem and brought -him- home to me?” But she hadn't exactly refused any of his points, and Lyorek read that as permission, pointing Jaxan to one of the chairs.

The young Jedi sank down on the chair, sorting through the mess of scratch papers and datapads and pieces of ancient tablets that littered the desk. He neatly re-arranged the mess, and Lyorek saw his dark eyes flicking back and forth over the writing on one of the tablets, his lips moving as if... “Jax, are you reading that?” Lyo asked incredulously.

Jaxan looked up, his expression filled with surprise and uncertainty. “I am, yes. I'm not a scholar on the level of many in the Order, but I did work for a time as a Padawan with a Master who was very interested in historical texts. Most of them were in obscure languages or pictographs, so I had to learn some of them. I recognize this one,” he said, tapping the tablet with one finger, and Lyorek looked triumphantly at Nox, who responded, somewhat rudely, with a sound very much like a deflating air bladder. “Is that alright?”

“It's marvelous, well done. Jaxan, this is Darth Nox. You can refer to her as.. well.. Darth Nox, and as she is a former member of the Dark Council and a ranking adviser for the Empress, she is generally addressed as 'my lord'. I can't vouch for what she'll call you, but I will tell you that she insults everyone including me and sometimes the Empress, and it's not personal.”

“It -is- personal when it's a Jedi. Deeply personal,” she said irritably, slapping a stylus on the table in front of Jaxan and pointing to the nearest datapad. “Use that, and I will check the accuracy of your translation, so be exact. Do NOT use shorthand, and do not assume the meaning of anything that you are not certain about. Is that clear?”

“It's clear, Darth Nox. I will absolutely be accurate with your translation,” Jaxan told her earnestly, his sweet smile provoking a startled, big-eyed look from the diminutive Inquisitor. The insult she'd been marinating to inflict on him caught almost literally in her throat, and she coughed, wheezing, glaring through watering blue eyes at Lyorek, who looked disgustingly pleased with himself. 

The Zabrak slapped her on the back helpfully, staggering her, and she shoved him half-heartedly in return to the accompaniment of his laughter. Lyorek ruffled Jaxan's blonde hair lightly with one hand and winked flirtatiously at him. “I'll be back for you after a while, I have class.” He bounced out the door, with Jaxan's brown eyes fixed mournfully on his black-clad back, and disappeared down the corridor. 

“What kind of class is Lyorek enrolled in?” the Jedi inquired, carefully striking a tone of deferential respect with his request. Nox watched him writing notes left-handed, his right hand following the lines of chiseled writing on the tablet, a wholly undesirable sensation of curiosity awakening in her.

She sat back in her own seat, picking up her datapad and propping her booted feet up on the corner of the desk. “Combat practice. He just likes to pretend it's an actual class. Lyorek is lazy and neglects his saber work. His footwork is acceptable, and his attack work is slightly above mediocre, but his defense is embarrassing and he's easily distracted. He spars with the Empress some days, and with Arcann on others. As a rule, he gets trounced by both of them,” Nox replied blandly. “Sometimes Yariele or Lana steps in, if they are busy or away.”

Jaxan gave her a startled look, and Nox glanced at him, narrowing her eyes slightly until he returned to his writing. “The Empress and .. the former Emperor of Zakuul are training him personally?” he asked cautiously a few moments later, his tone hopeful and rather obviously excited. 

“You needn't act like it's some kind of religious experience, Jedi. Although you would know what those feel like far better than I would, I suppose.” Nox rapped her knuckles firmly on the desk, emphasizing her words with the sharp sound. “Everyone pulls their weight around here, even the boss. But if you're hoping to get to cross sabers with either of them, you will have to prove that you're worth their time. And you're a Jedi, so...” She arched one golden brow doubtfully. “I suppose we'll see.”

Jaxan gave her a hurt glance from those puppy-like brown eyes, but Darth Nox only smiled at him. Something about the expression was the opposite of reassuring, and he quickly went back to his work, focusing on it in the hopes he would finish in time to catch some of Lyorek's sparring match. 

**Training Field (Odessen):**

The hum of active sabers was all around, distractingly, but Arcann had made a space for their bout further out and as far away from Sana-Rae's students as he could get them. Lyorek's preoccupation was easy to sense, and he'd made numerous mistakes so far in their spar, several that would have been a kill for Arcann if he'd been in earnest. As he attacked him again, the Inquisitor left his side open, his footwork not as quick as usual, and the prince forced him back step by step until he hooked the middle of the shaft of his saberstaff, and flipped it out of Lyorek's hands with the butt of his own saber hilt. Lyo dove for the tumbling blade, and Arcann brought his own blade down with careful precision right in front of the Inquisitor's startled face, halting the fight. “You know what you did wrong, there,” he said impatiently, “Practice blocking that attack. I want to see your footwork cleaned up, too. You're being sloppy today, Lyorek.” It was hard to come down too hard on the Zabrak, though, when he had so many things on his mind that were taking him out of his focus as well. 

He could feel Selirah in their bond, and knew she was in a meeting with Lana. She was frustrated – as she had been many times since they'd arrived back on Odessen, and it seemed to be escalating with every new day. Leads had been thin, no new attacks had occurred, and everyone was starting to get irritable with each other. Mistrust in the ranks was starting to become rampant, and there'd been a few fights to break up when accusations had been thrown around under all the pressure in the base to find the traitor. Theron was working harder than anyone, and he'd been working so consistently late that both of them felt like they never got any time with him. It was making Selirah more short-tempered than usual, and Arcann had to admit, he felt a little out of sorts about the separation too.

Even when they were in the same meetings together, Theron had an odd, strained demeanor. Of course, it made sense that he was feeling the pressure more than anyone other than Lana. This whole investigation had been in their hands from the start, and to have no concrete name to offer Selirah was worrying both of them. Selirah attributed a lot more value to her people than many Sith would have, but she still did not appreciate failure, on any level. The shorter that her temper became, the more Theron and Lana worried, and the harder they worked. 

Arcann had kept this final fact to himself, but he also knew that she'd been meeting with Quinn. Not often, but.. several times now, he'd seen her leave the base for the wilderness trail, and then discovered that Quinn had been seen leaving the same way, either before her, or a short time afterwards. He wasn't sure what they were doing out there, but he was relatively sure that she wasn't sleeping with the Imperial officer. She could, and did, hide things from him even with their bond. He knew that much. But something told him that it wasn't what was happening. She always seemed less on edge when she returned from one of those wilderness walks, and less prone to snapping at people or displays of temper. His instincts told him that she was just venting and talking to Quinn, and while it stung that she was singling the other man out for a sounding board, he couldn't blame her for wanting a little distance from someone who was as frustrated as she was. Arcann knew that his annoyance was flooding her as often as hers was doing the same to him, and without Theron to talk to, she needed some sort of outlet for her aggravations and stresses.

So he hadn't told Theron in the few times they'd had to spend a little time together. It seemed pointless, something that would just cause unnecessary drama, when all they wanted was to spend some time cuddling up, watching stupid holovids or eating dinner together, or having a morning caf before the day started. Especially since most of those things were now two person affairs, with a missing, Theron-shaped hole in their time together.

Saber igniting with a growl, Arcann spun and attacked Lyorek, catching the surprised light in the red-gold eyes of the tall Zabrak. But his practice had paid off; he caught Arcann's gold blade with one end of his dual saber, parrying and blocking, dancing around the prince's more direct, offensive style. He couldn't push Lyorek back now, and he even vanished once on him when Arcann was mid-attack, re-appearing behind him and nearly laying him out on his face by hooking one of his legs with a foot. Spinning to face the Inquisitor, Arcann found him gone again, halfway behind him before he could react. 

From the corner of an eye, he caught sight of a young blonde man in tan and cream Jedi robes, arms folded, watching them intently, and he smiled faintly. “I see why you have your head on straight now,” Arcann told Lyorek tauntingly. Zabrak of Lyorek's color couldn't exactly blush, but something about the way that the Inquisitor shot a quick, nervous look at his observer told Arcann that he was right about the motivation. “Don't want to look bad in front of your new friend?” 

Lyorek's eyes narrowed, and for the next several minutes, Arcann found himself actually forced to truly fight to defend himself. The Inquisitor's sheer speed and agility was hard for him to deflect, and several times, Lyorek stopped a blow that would have injured him just short of it landing. There was a familiar light in his eyes as he spun and twisted out of Arcann's range, darting back in to nearly land another blow to the outside of the prince's undefended thigh. It was a look that Arcann knew very well, because it was the same battle-joy that Selirah's eyes held when she fought. He laughed, and stepped back, calling a halt to the spar with an upraised hand. 

“That was impressive. Maybe you should bring him along more often. This is the first time I've seen what I know you are capable of, Lyo,” Arcann said lightly, his smile easing the sting of the mild admonishment of Lyorek's consistent laziness. “Nox would have found little to criticize about you today.”

Lyorek laughed, shaking his head. “Oh she would have found plenty to criticize about me. She always does.” Noticing the Jedi-shaped shadow drifting closer to him, with fascinated brown eyes fixed on the Zakuulan prince, he added, “Arcann, this is Jaxan, our little tag along from Iokath's Republic forces. Jaxan, this is Arcann, our Illustrious Empress' right hand man.” In a whisper that was incredibly loud and not a whisper at all, he leaned towards Arcann and said slyly, “Or.. do you sleep on the left hand side? Theron will never let me peek, and I'm sure you'll be just as tiresome about it.”

Arcann laughed, and Jaxan's eyes widened slightly at the deep sound of his voice. “You're going to tweak the wrong tail someday, Lyo, and get yourself in more trouble than your charm can fix.” He glanced at Jaxan, looking him over. The Jedi looked nervous, but he stood under the assessing blue eyes, shooting Lyorek a few sidelong looks. “I hope you'll keep up with your saber work now that you're here, Jaxan. We expect a high level of commitment from everyone, and you won't be exempt from that.” 

“Of course, I would be glad to. My skills might not lie quite so much in that direction, I'm afraid, but... more experience can only be a good thing.” 

“Sana-Rae will test you, and help you work on the areas that need it. See her when you have the time. It was a pleasure, but I'm due for a meeting. See you next time, Lyo. Pleasure to meet you, Jaxan.. be careful with this one,” Arcann said dryly, pointing at Lyorek as he turned and headed back towards the base, his stride easy and purposeful through the pairs of sparring students out on the training ground. 

“What does he mean by that, Lyo?” Jaxan frowned slightly, a quizzical expression in the soft brown eyes. Wincing internally, Lyorek seized Jaxan's hand, tugging him along behind him. They walked down the rocky trail towards the woods, and once they reached some privacy, Lyo's steps slowed to a more leisurely pace. 

“He means that I'm a flirt, Jax. You already knew that.” 

The Jedi's eyes cleared of worry, and a sweet smile touched his lips. “Of course I do. You're shameless. I'm sure that I'm not the only one to think so, either.” He pulled back on Lyorek's hand, and the Inquisitor turned to face him. Jaxan tugged him closer, backing up to one of the massive trees and wrapping his arms around Lyorek's waist. “The way you flirted with me that first day.. it was very hard to resist. You knew exactly what you were doing, too.” 

Lyo grinned, a feline smile of satisfaction that ended in a hot, suggestive kiss. He pinned Jaxan gently against the unyielding tree, his hands cupping the Jedi's face, his tongue parting his lips, tasting his mouth. He closed his eyes, feeling a tickle of surprise at how much he still liked Jaxan's company. This morning, he'd even woken up realizing he'd stayed the entire night in the Jedi's room, and that Jaxan's head was tucked into the curve of his neck, their bodies fitted together perfectly under the covers. It was an uncomfortable moment of awareness, and he'd fled the room as soon as he could disentangle himself. And now, here he was, kissing the handsome young Jedi hungrily, the heat of desire unfurling rapidly.

Just then, in that moment, he heard a sound, and he pulled away from the inviting softness of Jaxan's mouth, covering the Jedi's lips gently with his hand so that he didn't speak up. A voice, no.. two voices. Selirah's distinctive accent first, cut-glass Kaasian. “Something is wrong, I'm telling you. The way he's acting.. I know he's worried about the traitor, but I'm worried that it's something else.”

The second voice was familiar, but it took him a moment to recognize it as Major Quinn's. “You think he's keeping something from you? I don't want to point out the obvious, but he -is- a spy. Lying is what they do. Perhaps he knows something more about the traitor and doesn't want to tell you? Could it be someone that he'd want to protect? What about his mother?”

Lyorek could see them, just barely, passing below them on a lower trail, heading deeper into the forest. They weren't touching, and in fact, nothing about their body language read as 'planning an illicit screw in the woods' to him, and if anyone was going to know what that looked like, well... he glanced at Jaxan's wide brown eyes, and lifted his hand from his mouth, making a silent shh-ing gesture with a finger. No, they looked like they were just brainstorming together, but questioning -Theron-'s motivations? 

“I think we have already ruled her out, as much as is possible. Maybe it's nothing, Malavai. But I just can't shake this feeling.. it makes me sick to my stomach. I'm worried about him. Perhaps I'm driving him too hard with this.”

“Then remove him from the investigation, Selirah. But you know he will not take that well, if you do it,” Quinn said calmly, his eyes resting on the Twi'lek's profile. Lyo smiled, amused. They might not be out here for a flirtation, but the look in Quinn's eyes when he watched her was so lovesick that it was just about as well-concealed as a Hutt's casino. “He would think you had no confidence in his ability to locate the traitor.”

“I know!.. I know. You're right. And that's not what I want to do, at all. I just want him to be more himself again, Malavai. Maybe I can get him to go somewhere with me, just for a few days, take some of the pressure off his shoulders.” She frowned thoughtfully, and they continued down the path together, disappearing amid the brush and trees lining the trails.

Jaxan waited until he was certain that they were gone, and then he whispered, “That was the Empress.. why did you want me to be quiet?”

Lyorek shrugged, but he was still looking in the direction that Selirah and Quinn had gone. “You never know what you'll learn, if you keep quiet and listen, Jax,” he said absently. “Come on, I need to see Nox. Then we can go find a nice couch in the cantina to relax and have a drink, hmm?” He looked at Jaxan over one black-clad shoulder, his molten red-gold eyes bright and his lazy smile incredibly suggestive.

“I don't think you really intend for us to get a drink at all, Lyo.”

“Of course I do. Whether or not you'll get to drink any of it, that's a different matter. Let's go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have power! 
> 
> (Watch me wake up tomorrow without it, lol.)
> 
> I'm cautiously optimistic that we might be coming out the other side in a day or so. If I can just have a few hours without the sound of rain, I'll be thrilled, because I'm so sick of it. Thank you all for the kind thoughts!


	88. Say Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Three Musketeers set off for Umbara, to find a traitor.
> 
> Things do not go as visualized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Umbara Spoilers:**
> 
> This chapter is literally nothing -but- spoilers for Umbara, so don't read if you don't want to see it. 
> 
> It's not the whole thing, but it was getting pretty long and I was getting tired, so the rest will be in another chapter. 
> 
> Don't take the dialogue as an exact reading of the scene as it plays out. I melded dark side answers/responses with light side answers/responses with neutral answers/responses, and then added on top of all that. So it's more of an interpretation of the scene with additional writing added to it. But the parts that are from the game are relatively faithfully conveyed.

He hadn't left yet.

The thought registered slowly in Selirah's sleepy thoughts, her nose registering the faint woodsy scent of Theron's favorite soap clinging lightly to his skin. She burrowed closer to him, her arms twining around his ribs. He rolled closer to her in his sleep, one arm wrapped around her, and his fingers trailed over her tchun, stirring her more awake with the visceral pleasure that the light caress engendered. His heart beat underneath her cheek, rhythmic and soothing. Her lips curved into a smile, and Selirah felt her body start to unconsciously relax, comforted by his presence. She sank back into sleep between one breath and the next, the worry that nagged at her thoughts eased for the moment.

“Time to get up, love.” Arcann's deep voice rumbled against the back of her neck, and she smiled lazily, eyes closed still. Luxuriously stretching from head to toe, fingers flexing, toes arching, Selirah felt her back crack in a satisfying series of pops, and Arcann laughed behind her at the sound. His hands caressed the curve of her lower back, and he rubbed the band of muscle along her spine with his thumb on one side, then the other, listening to her make pleased noises in her throat. “Lana says she needs to speak with you and Theron in a half an hour, so I think you may have time to catch a few minutes with him if you hurry.”

“That makes it sound like -you're- not getting up, keella. Just me,” she accused, a jaw-cracking yawn punctuating the words, and she could feel his amusement as well as see the smile on his face as she twisted around in his arms, sneaking a brief good morning kiss. “Figures. Fine, fine.. I'll do all the work, as always.”

“Well.. you -are- the Empress. Leading is not my job anymore, so I can sleep in,” he retorted with annoying lightness of tone, and she rolled her eyes at him, making a sulky face. “That is -such- an enjoyable excuse. I love it.”

“Hmph.” Selirah slid over him deliberately to get out of bed, and the 'accidental' and unnecessarily slow way her body glided over his elicted several masculine protest sounds that ended with Arcann seizing her wrist and pulling her back into his lap as he sat up, for another good morning kiss. This one was not brief. Quite the opposite, actually, and Arcann gave her a very vain and satisfied look when he finally let her up that was extremely well-earned. Breathless and more than a little inclined to just stay in bed with him, Selirah sighed at the necessity of working on a day like this, and at Theron's expected absence from bed this morning as well. 

When she found him, Theron was bent over a terminal on a makeshift desk, but it went blank at the press of a key as he straightened, turning towards Selirah. Papers littered the surface and were strewn across the floor, as if he'd swept them there in frustration at some point, and she eyed them briefly before her gaze returned to his face. 

“Fresh news from the war on Iokath. Republic troops captured one of our supply stations,” he told her without any real greeting, and Selirah nodded, trying to keep the annoyance she felt from showing on her face. It wasn't Theron's fault that all of this was wearing on him; he was just relaying the information he'd received. “The Empire's leading a retaliation, but we're locked in a stalemate.”

“You always know how to cheer me up,” Selirah told him dryly. “What about our hunt for the traitor in our ranks?”

“We're questioning everyone from the usual suspects to your top advisers. So far, everyone looks clean.” Theron shrugged one shoulder, making a helpless gesture with one hand as he spoke, frustration written plainly in his expression and the tone of his voice. “We'll find the traitor, but these mole hunts take time.”

Selirah took a breath slowly, her voice softening. “I'm sorry, Theron. I'm not criticizing you. I know how much energy you're putting into this.. you and Lana, both. It means a lot to me.” 

The lines of concern in Theron's face eased noticeably, his hazel eyes brightening with emotion. “And you mean a lot to me, Seli. I'd do anything to protect you.”

“Theron Shan, are you getting romantic on me?” Selirah took a step towards him, and he echoed it, closing the gap between them.

“Is it working?” he asked teasingly, a smile curving his lips as they came together. He drew her close against him, the smile widening as she pushed up on her toes to bring herself closer to his height. 

Selirah pretended to consider for a moment, and he squeezed her around the ribs, making her grin and capitulate hastily. “Absolutely.” When his lips met hers, Selirah closed her eyes, her heart leaping in her chest. She couldn't begin to explain why it felt like this still. Every time, so many years later – every time as if it were the first kiss they'd ever shared. For a moment, all the frustrations and concerns that had been eating both of them were forgotten. When it came, his withdrawal from the kiss was too quick for her wishes, and Selirah made a protesting sound, hating herself a little bit for how much she missed him when he was this busy. Things would change when the traitor was found. She just needed to find more patience.

He smiled at her, but the look in his eyes was distant now, self-deprecating. “Now, if only I could produce results.”

“Lighten up, Theron,” Lana said, arriving precisely on time, as always. “Things aren't -all- doom and gloom.”

“You look cheery today, Lana. Did Gault spike the caf again?” Theron's smile looked a little tight, forced, but Selirah's attention was drawn away when Lana's simple reply came, the blonde Sith looking deeply pleased with herself. 

“Even better. I found a lead. Alliance agents picked up a signal from the shadow world of Umbara. It's encrypted with the same algorithm the traitor used on Iokath.” Her brows drew down over gold-bright eyes, and she continued calmly, “They're still on the planet – helping our Republic foes grab a massive stockpile of Adegan crystals.”

“Adegan crystals are attuned to the Force. Could our traitor be working with the Jedi or Sith?” 

“It's possible. But Darth Malgus once discovered a use for them beyond lightsabers. Perhaps that's the reason for it.”

Selirah moved restlessly, pacing back and forth, her eyes on the ground as she thought. “The traitor already lured me into one ambush on Iokath. I won't walk into another.” 

“If it's an ambush, we'll face it together.” Theron shook his head, his response firm. “This time, I'll have your back, Seli.” He stepped into her path as she rounded to make another pass, and she stopped, lifting her gaze to his face. Her expression cleared slowly, violet eyes focusing, and he saw her start to relax visibly because of his reassurance, the way she had done this morning in bed when she'd moved close to him and fallen asleep again in his arms. The trust that he saw in her face.. Theron was grateful when Lana spoke, interrupting the moment. 

“As will I. The Republic won't give up their precious crystals without a fight.”

“Both sides have tinkered with Adegan crystals for years. Part of an arms race to build a new arsenal of superweapons,” Theron added.

“If we move quickly,” Lana said, her golden gaze intent on the Empress and Theron, “we can corner the traitor and hijack those crystals. Intel says they're on an Umbaran supply train headed for the capital city.”

“Then we leave now,” Selirah said quietly, decisively. It was time for this to be over, for all of their sakes, so everything could go back to what passed for normal for them. She was tired of looking over her shoulder all the time, tired of suspicion, tired of seeing her people doubting each other. Theron was no doubt even more tired of it all, and Lana, and both of them deserved a break from the strain of the last few weeks. “The traitor won't escape us this time.”

**Shuttle (Umbara Approach):**

There'd been little conversation on the way to the shadow planet, Umbara, on the part of any of them. Selirah sat silently on one of the seats, adjusting her heavy armor carefully, checking and rechecking the integrated support systems, and fretting uselessly over the fit of one of the pieces of plate. It looked fine to Theron's eyes, but the warrior had refastened it at least seven times over the last several hours, in between times of maddening pacing and occasional periods of stillness where she watched the stars rushing by the cockpit windows. 

Gelena was piloting, the tall, surly starship captain largely quiet as well, until Theron came too close to the controls, which he did occasionally just to watch her snap at him to go away. He was starting to think she'd never forget Tora's heavily edited story of how he'd 'broken' the Omnicannon.

Lana was sitting a few feet away from Selirah, her eyes closed. It wasn't clear if she was meditating, or just.. being very weirdly still. But as Selirah began fidgeting yet again with the fastenings of the tall boot encasing her left leg, the adviser rose, moving over to where the warrior sat, and knelt in front of her. Her hands moved over the fastenings, opening them all, giving a quick shake to the boot and the armored plating, settling it. She clicked the heavy-duty latchings closed up Selirah's calf, and glanced up at her. “Better?” she asked, and there was a look of understanding that passed between the two Sith, a cognizance of the unease in Selirah's violet eyes. The Twi'lek nodded gratefully, extending a hand and helping Lana get back to her feet with a smooth pull. 

Umbara loomed large as the shuttle approached, and Selirah's tension seemed to spread from her to Lana and Theron. He found himself checking his blasters, adjusting the way they sat on his thighs, and even Lana had an anticipatory look in her pale golden eyes. Gelena's sure hand at the controls took them down, and the long column of the train came into sight. It was racing over the grey, ashen landscape, between the strange growths of glowing plants and the distant shadow of looming mountains, guided by the rings that marked the path towards the capital city. 

“The train is on the move – and the traitor's on board,” Lana said, as Gelena swung lower, increasing the speed to parallel the train's rocketing pace. The pilot moved the shuttle lower, and lower still, settling smoothly above the flat spine of one of the cars. Theron lowered the ramp, and Selirah was the first one out to the edge, looking down at the train. Her eyes were alight with the excitement of battle, and more – with the knowledge that they would expose the traitor at last, and free everyone from the stain of suspicion, clearing the strain that had marked every moment since the sabotage on Iokath.

“Nothing we can't handle,” Theron said, glancing at Selirah as he came to her side, and she gave him a fierce smile, her lavender eyes briefly softening at the sight of him. Fingers touching lips, she blew him a playful kiss, and then jumped down, landing heavily on the moving train. Lana and Theron followed, and they began to move forward cautiously as Gelena lifted the shuttle up and into the atmosphere, gliding away into the distance. They wouldn't see her again until this was handled, one way or the other.. and her presence in the shuttle made it obvious that she was not the person on the train, at least to Selirah.

But her mind was fully on the goal, laser-focused on finally ending the threat to herself and everyone around her. Without this traitor hanging over her, things would be so much different. The shimmer of stealth fields alerted her first to the presence of guards, and then there was nothing to think about but fighting. 

Theron hung back, out of the way, his blasters unerringly precise, picking off Republic attackers. Selirah fought with single-minded ferocity, her back almost always all that he could see of her. She'd foregone the heavy cloak today, and he watched her move, surprised by her grace in the heavy armor even though he'd seen her fight in full armor plenty of times in the past. Her tendency to wear lighter armor was mostly a sartorial statement on the quality of her opponents, but of late, she seemed to have returned to more to the armoring style she had favored as the Wrath of the Emperor, matte black, intimidating, heavy and brutal in appearance. 

She didn't look at him often, but Selirah was very aware of Theron's position and mindful of him. There was no concern that he would hit her with any of his shots, and she moved as if she were perfectly in tune with where his next shot would go. Somehow, she was just never there, and he never got used to the sychronicity that she had found with him. He'd never had someone in his life that protected him the way she did, who had learned to work with his independent nature and his specialized fighting style, so that they always provided a nearly seamless front against their enemies. Ever step forward on the train came harder and harder, as they drew closer and closer to resolution. Theron's jaw set, as he watched her step over a dead Republic soldier in order to stab another one in the midsection, and he walked forward in her wake, pushing onwards. 

There was nowhere to go now but forward. The path was set.

The Republic defense was not insignificant, and in the last fight before this empty car, Selirah had taken at least two wounds that Theron knew of and had seen her take, and was pretty certain there were a few more. She walked as if she was fine, but adrenaline, sheer Sith rage, and the kolto injections and pain numbing treatments that were administered from the systems integrated into her armor would have kept her moving like that for hours if need be. There was no way to tell how bad the wounds were until she took the armor off, and there was no time for that now. 

They came through the door of the last car, and the cab of the train was ahead, through one more door. Lana and Selirah had their blades out and activated, humming in time with the rhythmic song of the train as it hurtled along. Theron paused in the middle of the room, and Lana moved carefully towards the panel that would open the control room of the train.

“The traitor's on the other side of that door.” Lana's voice was pitched low, quiet, and Selirah moved to the opposite side of the door, her purple saber throwing a lurid glare on the floor and walls. The flickering light caught her violet eyes, brightening them, and she glanced back at Theron where he stood in the center of the room, a little half-smile of anticipation on her face. His lack of reaction, the cool acceptance that she could see in his hazel eyes, made her pause, and the smile fell, fracturing uneasily as Lana opened the door.

The room beyond was … empty.

No one sat in the operator's chair, and there was no one at all inside. Both Lana and Selirah entered slowly, looking around with nearly identical incredulous expressions. “They're gone...” Seli said unnecessarily, deactivating her blade and hanging it at her belt. Her battle energy pressed against her senses, the force singing with warning that made no sense. No one was here. There was nothing to fight, no one to kill, no enemy to destroy. 

“That's impossible,” Lana stated, her stunned look quickly shifting to confusion. “According to the signal, they're still on the convoy...” She turned around, her eyes passing over Theron, searching the room hopelessly for some kind of sign. Anything. Then it registered that Theron was the only one with a weapon out, and aimed. Aimed at the Empress. He settled the blaster more comfortably, steadying it, and horror dawned across her face. The shot left the barrel as she flung herself across the doorway, towards Selirah as she turned to face Theron as well. “NO!” Lana felt the bolt hit her instead of Selirah, and a shock bowed her spine, sending her muscles and nerves into a screaming spasm of agony. 

Lana's body hit the ground, sliding into the corner, and Selirah stared at it, and at Theron, then back again, her confusion almost palpable. Theron could see her trying to find a reason for the shot, watched her eyes find him again, and he saw the trust in her face as she struggled to rationalize what had happened in front of her. Lana was still out, half-conscious, and there was no escaping that it was Theron who had rendered her that way. But it had to be a mistake. He could almost see her deciding that it was.

“Theron?” she asked, and the look on her face – it was hope. That this was a mistake. That he'd tell her it was a joke. That Lana had played some trick on him, and this was payback. Anything. Anything but what her instincts screamed at her. Her eyes pleaded with him, and he saw them widen as he adjusted his aim again, this time at her head. "Theron... what are you doing?"

He knew she would move. She had to move. Every time he'd fought at her side, every time he'd come for her somewhere in a pitched battle, or she to him, she'd been so fast. It was impossible to believe her speed, when she chose to employ it. But he hesitated for a moment, because she just was standing there, with that look on her face that said that she knew he would never do what he was doing right now. “It's over, Selirah.”

He fired again.

Selirah didn't make the decision to move, but her body did. She ducked reflexively, and the shot blasted out the window behind her. The rushing wind screamed inside, and she straightened slowly. And he saw something different start to come into her face. That night that she'd come back from Quinn, when she'd sent him away, he'd seen a look for just a second on her face that he'd sworn was hatred. Resentment. Fury. Blame. And as he shifted his aim a third time, to the instrument panel that controlled the train, he saw the familiar rage flare back to life. 

But it wasn't hatred that he saw in her eyes, as he took the shot and watched her twist away from the bolts as they took out the panel, leaving it sparking and melted into the console behind her. No, it was a sinking, broken sort of resignation. A protective field activated immediately, blocking her from escaping back into the train after him, but she stood there, empty eyes staring at him, and Theron felt like he could see something vital inside her dying before his very gaze when he looked at her through the glowing red door shield.

“In a few minutes, this train will collide with that mountain range.” Theron's tone was flat, emotionless, but she said nothing. Just stared at him with that vacant, ashen look on her face. “You'll be disintegrated, and I'll escape with the Adegan crystals. Don't worry. You won't feel a thing.” 

“Did you ever love me? Or was that all part of the act?” the words were half-choked, throttled in her throat by the sickness rising within her. The pain needled into Selirah's brain, and she felt her eyes burning, filling with tears of rage and betrayal. How could this happen again? How could she have been so stupid? Years spent trying to be someone that he could love. Years compromising. Years, so many years. Wasted. 

Theron's cold expression eased for a moment, and she saw her Theron looking at her again out of a stranger's face, the beloved hazel eyes soft. “You know I love you.” No. Not anymore. Not ever again. “But this is bigger than us.” Nothing was bigger than us. We were everything to each other. “Luring you into that trap on Iokath was just the beginning. Ever since you defeated Valkorian, everything I've done has been towards one goal...” he said quietly, pacing back and forth before her, his shoulders set in a determined line. “The total destruction of the Eternal Alliance.” 

Her heart stuttered in her chest, agonizing pain racheting through her, and Selirah didn't know if it was the injuries she was ignoring, or Theron's words that were causing it. She forced herself more upright, refusing to look weak now. A god has no family, and I have never had a family, she thought viciously, and steadied her body and her voice, ignoring the pain that wracked her with every breath. “You helped build the Alliance. After everything we've been through, why tear it down now?” Looking at him made it worse, and so she forced herself to turn away, to look past him, as if he was not worthy of so much as a glance from one such as she. 

It was even true. Her fingers twitched with the desire to show him how unworthy he was, and she forced them to stillness.

“What I built was an end to the Eternal Empire. Not this,” Theron said, his words cutting and full of disappointment. “I followed you because I believed you'd end the cycle of war. I thought we'd finally be free once you took down Valkorian. But the Alliance outgrew you. Now it's rotting from the inside, the galaxy's fighting back, and you've become a symbol of oppression. So much for your dreams of peace.” 

“If you felt this way, you should have come to me first,” Selirah replied, hating the words even as they came from her mouth, hating that she still wanted him to tell her that it was a mistake. Everything he'd done, it could be forgiven, if he would just..

“I wanted to tell you. But I knew you'd try to talk me down. I couldn't take that risk,” he admitted.

“If you topple the Alliance, millions will die!”

“If that's the cost of peace, so be it.” 

Selirah stared at him in disbelief, shocked at his heartless answer. “Theron, that's insanity. It's not peace, it's a graveyard! Don't do this. There's no coming back from this choice. Not for either of us!”

“Thirty seconds to impact. This is goodbye,” he said flatly, and the moment was gone. Theron was gone. The man who stood in front of her was an enemy. She had spent her entire life learning lesson after brutal lesson about how to deal with enemies.

“Theron.. don't do this to us!” She clenched her fists, her unleashed rage and pain reverberating inside her mind, a whirlwind made of poisoned razorblades. Never ask for mercy. And offer none. He made her soft. He'd tricked her. Lied to her. Betrayed her. Made her believe that he loved her. “You'd better start running, Theron,” she spat. “I'm going to enjoy hunting you down!”

He turned his back, walking away, and she screamed his name in impotent fury, the metal frame of the doorway twisting with the power of it. But the barrier held, and she watched him disappear through the other doorway, leaving her behind to die. Lana was getting to her feet slowly, disoriented, when the first explosion rocked the rings, followed by another, and another. The train rocketed wildly forward, out of control, and the warning system spoke politely into the sounds of screeching metal and flames. “Warning. Collision imminent. Brace for impact.”

Lana looked out the broken window and glanced back at Selirah. “We need to survive long enough to make Theron pay. Jump!” But the Twi'lek just stood there, her eyes still fixed on the far door frame, as if somehow, he was going to come back, and Lana's mouth tightened, sympathy mingled with frustration. She seized the Empress' gauntleted hand, dragging her towards the shattered window. Dead weight at first, she finally seemed to snap out of whatever madness had her in its grip, and she leaped with Lana, their bodies hurtling away from the speeding train as it rushed at a destructive velocity towards the unyielding mountains. 

The explosion rocked the entire area, and train cars tumbled into wreckage, piling up together like discarded children's toys, destroyed and forgotten. Lana got up slowly, dusting off her knees and chest fastidiously, but Selirah was slower to rise, her face turned away. Lana left her alone for as long as she dared – she knew that the warrior was searching the surroundings for Theron, and as pointless as the search was, she had to let the Empress have it, to come to the realization of what Theron had done on her own. The moment came sooner than she'd expected. Selirah's face, in profile to Lana's position, crumpled in shattering grief, and she sank back to her knees, her shoulders hunched defensively. Impossibly, Lana heard her sob out loud, a tortured, heartsick sound of loss that had nothing in it of the anger she'd displayed in the last moments on the train. 

And some part of her wondered what Arcann knew of what was happening, how much of Selirah's pain he was feeling, and what it would do to the fragile balance the prince walked between his dark side, and his redeemed self. 

Lana came to Selirah's side, cautiously. “We're in Umbaran territory, and they won't be happy to see us,” she warned, and saw Selirah nod, her lekku laying miserably down her back, still and limp. Lana checked her read outs, and added, “I'm picking up a trace on Theron's life readings. It's faint, but he's still on Umbara, and moving fast. We can catch him, if we hurry.”

Selirah got to her feet without further urging, moving forward. Keep going, she told herself silently. Focus on the next target, and the next. Slowly at first, but then faster. She barely slowed when the first troopers rose up in her path, and they barely had their weapons raised when she began to cut through them. Lana stayed with her, but as they continued in the direction that the readings led them, she felt the rage that fueled Selirah continue to build. The closer they came, the more brutally she fought, and Lana realized that this hatred had been inside the Twi'lek all along, sleeping, quiescent, a fire with no fuel as long as Theron's tempering influence had been there to keep it banked. 

“I'm picking up a high energy reading near the wreckage. The Adegan crystals, maybe?”

Selirah callously stabbed an injured Umbaran soldier as she walked past him. Not in the chest, or even the throat. But in the lower stomach. The blade flicked to the side, drawing a smoking, stinking line across the man's gut, and she moved on, ignoring his screams and not staying to watch him die. “So he didn't take the whole shipment. Why?” she inquired, inflicting an identical wound on the next soldier. Lana picked up the pace, hastening past the writhing, suffering men. 

“Not surprised you survived the crash. I didn't think it'd be that easy. But it buys me enough time to get offworld.”

When Theron's voice came across the comm, Selirah stopped in her tracks, then lifted one booted foot, setting it down on another soldier's neck. She slid the blade into his body, jerking it upwards, letting the high, thin scream come across the connection before she answered. “Keep talking. It'll make silencing you all the more satisfying.”

“You'll need to catch me first.”

Lana shook her head in disgust, folding her arms. “I don't understand. How did I not see this coming? Was I really that blind?”

“If anyone was blind, it was me,” Selirah answered, and instead of leaving this one like the others, she twisted the blade up into the soldier's heart, ending his suffering. She turned away, and kept heading in the direction Theron had gone. “Once a spy, always a spy. Deception is what they do best.”

“When I get my hands on him, he will regret betraying a Sith.”

“There may not be much left for you, and I think my claim is the greater.”

“Of course, Empress.” Lana paused as they moved on, climbing over wreckage and rocks, moving upwards as the trail curved. “Are you alright? I know this must be hitting you especially hard.”

“Theron was dead to me the second he pulled the trigger.” She laughed, but the sound was awful. Grating. For a moment, Selirah seemed as if she were considering just walking away, but then she shook her head slightly, a sharp, angry gesture, and when she continued on, the tone of her voice had changed. “I don't.. I can't forgive what he's done, Lana. It would undermine me completely, and you know that. It doesn't matter how I feel, or what I might want. He has given me no choice. I'm not a minor Sith Lord trying to avoid her former Master's assassination attempts anymore.” Selirah stopped for a moment, and Lana could see the regret in every line of her body. “Now I am a leader, and I can't just allow a highly-placed traitor to live unpunished, or take him back into my good graces as if nothing had happened. Don't you understand? Every disgruntled person in the Alliance would be at my throat. We'd never have a moment's peace again.” 

There was little Lana could say to counter the points Selirah had made. It was exactly the same argument that she would have made against taking him back after what he'd done. If he'd recanted here, faced her, perhaps they could have kept it hushed up, placed the blame somewhere else. The narrative could have been controlled. But that option was gone, and there was no good option now to take. Selirah was correct. Theron could not come back after this. It would destroy everything they'd built. She wanted to argue that there could be mitigating circumstances; an excuse, a reason. But even if there was, it would weaken Selirah's position to ever let Theron rejoin them once word of his betrayal had spread. The fact that he had been acting against them for so long would hurt them badly enough.

They saw his shuttle first as they stepped into the clearing. Then Theron stepped onto the ramp, and as if he'd known she would be there, his eyes met Selirah's across the distance. His face was a mask, and there was no reaction as she shouted his name. “Theron! This isn't over!” 

“No,” he called back as the shuttle rose off the ground. “This is just beginning.” The ramp lifted, taking him from view, and Selirah roared in fury. Lana saw her reach out in the force, dragging violently at the shuttle. The ship bucked, but as she tried, and failed, to reach Arcann's distant flame of power in their bond, it slipped from her grasp, launching into the atmosphere as a stealth field deactivated, revealing a massive attack droid in the clearing, a parting gift from Theron. 

The look on her face as the droid closed the gap between them was stricken. Her eyes went from the droid, to the disappearing shuttle that was taking Theron away from her. 

_“Hi. You don't know me, but I'm here with Lana.” The unfamiliar, charming voice over the comm, on Manaan. His voice reaching her ear for the first time._

_“And they said if I ever kissed an Imp, I'd spontaneously implode..”_

_“I'm sorry I couldn't be there to thaw you out. Look at all you've accomplished. Everyone who chose to rally behind you. I haven't been one of those 'destiny' people in a long time, but this? Sure feels like it.”_

_“People keep trying to break us up. They never learn.”_

_“Whatever happens down there, Seli, I just wanted to say... I love you.”_

_“I love you. You don't have to love me back, and you don't have to say it even if you do. But I want you to hear me and know that I mean it. I. Love. You.”_

_“Seli, you can't keep doing this to me. You're giving me grey hairs. Look. I found two on the way here!”_

_“I couldn't live if I lost you.”_

It had all been lies. That was the only conclusion that Selirah could stomach, and so she told herself that it had to be the way that it really was. A deception from their first meeting, on Manaan. And he would pay for it when she found him. But first.. she needed to get off this planet. She activated her saber, and turned back to the droid. 

Another numbing injection would take care of the pain. She had stims for adrenaline. Kolto for healing. 

And a completely shattered heart that was far beyond any possible repair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Say something, I'm giving up on you.  
>  I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.  
> Anywhere I would've followed you.  
> Say something, I'm giving up on you._
> 
> _And I will swallow my pride...  
>  You're the one that I love,  
> And I'm saying goodbye._
> 
> The song I listened to besides the title song while writing most of this was Without You, by Junip. Less about the lyrics than the song itself in that case, though they work.


	89. Smooth Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All is not well in the land of Odessen. 
> 
> Arcann doesn't take Theron's betrayal well.
> 
> Pierce and Vette don't take Theron's betrayal well.
> 
> Selirah doesn't take Theron's betrayal well.
> 
> Lana doesn't take Theron's betrayal well.
> 
> No one is really taking it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Umbara Spoilers:**
> 
> The rest of the Umbara conversations are in here, but again, are slightly tinkered with and mixed from the various conversation choices.
> 
> From here until the next chapter release, though, it'll just be me. ;) 
> 
> (except for the Theron response letter)

Arcann was waiting on Odessen when the shuttle landed. Lana came down the ramp, and beckoned to him, glancing around as he approached her. “Go aboard. She wouldn't let me near her,” she said quietly, “and I'm not sure that it'd be safe for anyone but you to try. I'm going to find Major Quinn.. she's still got injuries, but she wouldn't permit me to help.” She didn't wait for him to answer, simply strode off towards the base in search of Quinn. 

He walked up the ramp, entering the shuttle. Selirah was sitting in one of the seats, near the far corner of the ship. Arcann hesitated in the doorway, and then came forward slowly. She didn't look at him – just sat there, perfectly still, with her arms resting on her knees and her back bent forward, her eyes on the floor. He could hear Gelena rummaging around in the cockpit, finishing all the shutdown sequences, and as the shuttle finally went completely quiet, the pilot emerged and without more than a single quiet glance, headed down the ramp, leaving them alone. 

He knew. Not all of it; not why, or what had happened on Umbara exactly. But he had known the moment her pain had reached him that something was very wrong. And the scant communication back from the mission had been stark and unbelievably shocking. Arcann sat down slowly in the seat next to her and waited without saying a word. Her shock and grief were all that he could feel in their bond, reverberating between them in an endless loop of loss and disbelief, but something about her silence warned him not to touch her, not to instigate anything that she could use to reject him. 

Quinn arrived a short time later, and gave Arcann a curt, polite nod of greeting as he moved to Selirah's side. He knelt on the floor, and checked her over visually without touching her at first, just looking for score marks on the armor, dents, holes. She moved suddenly, and Quinn stilled as she lifted her arm, her fingers going to the fastenings for her chestplate. Tugging, then frantically pulling at the latches, she struggled to unfasten it until Quinn touched her side. Her hand dropped away, and she turned her face towards the Imperial, but he didn't look at her, keeping his eyes on what he was doing as if he were handling a wounded, dangerous wild animal instead of his wife. Loosening the plates from the woven padding beneath, he lifted them away, setting them on the floor. 

Arcann watched the process, his link with her letting him see how much Quinn's calm presence had affected her feelings. She was still angry, still shocked. But she felt less buried in her grief over Theron's defection, and more in control as she allowed him to start to treat the injuries that had been hidden beneath her armor. Quinn spoke to her, quietly, describing what he was doing, what injuries she had. It was all bland, dull conversation, but Arcann recognized the cleverness in what he was doing. Selirah was watching him now, listening to him speak. He bandaged the worst of the burns and cuts, gave her a few shots against infection and pain, and lifted her armor as he stood. “I'll take this to be cleaned and repaired,” he said in a more normal tone and volume, his dark blue eyes moving to take in Arcann. “She -is- going to rest, at least for a little while.” He opened his hand, showing the prince the empty sedative injection in his hand. “Take her back so she can lie down.”

After Quinn left, Selirah seemed for a few moments to be sinking back into the same unresponsive state that she'd been in before, and he thought that the sedative was already taking effect. But then she turned sluggishly to look at Arcann, as if she'd just noticed his presence, her eyes slowly focusing on his face. “Did you suspect anything? Did you know what he was going to do to me?” she asked. It wasn't quite an accusation, but the mistrust in her face stung just the same, even though he understood why she felt the doubt.

“No.” Arcann pushed down the urge to protest, to defend himself. It wouldn't help right now. “I still can't really understand it.”

“Theron's gone.” Selirah said the words softly, with finality, and Arcann nodded slowly in response. 

“Yes, he is. But we'll find him.”

“For his sake, I hope we never do.” Her face crumpled slowly, and Arcann almost reeled back from the surge of unfettered grief and pain that struck him like a fist. She flung herself against him gracelessly and he caught her in his arms, holding her as she burrowed in against him as if she would climb inside him. Her shoulders shook violently, but she barely made any sounds, her face buried so tightly against his tunic that he had no idea how she could breathe. Within a few more minutes she began to slump. And then Selirah was out completely, her body limp against his. He could feel her hiccup softly, once, then her breathing slowed into deep sleep. Arcann lifted her, carefully, her tear-streaked face lolling against his shoulder and her lekku trailing down his arm. Carrying her out of the shuttle, he took her towards the base, keeping his attention on her and his path, rather than the curious faces watching as he passed through the hangar bay. 

Outside the door to their room, Pierce and Vette were waiting, the small blue-skinned Twi'lek uncharacteristically somber and quiet. “We were talking,” Vette said as he carried her inside, following behind in his wake. “And we wondered if maybe we should...” She faltered, and glanced around the room. Theron's slicing equipment lay on a table beside the computer terminal, a spare blaster dismantled for cleaning sat in pieces on the table near the couch. His equipment locker hung half-open, full of clothes and his possessions. “Get rid of his stuff, so she doesn't have to see it?” 

Arcann laid her gently in the bed, stripping the remains of her armor and under padding off and pulling the blankets up over her. He picked up one of the agent's shirts from where it lay discarded on the end of the bed, and his hand tightened on it, his fingers digging into the fabric. “I don't know,” he said honestly, looking up at them. “I don't want her to blame you for it if she wants it here for some reason. We'd better wait on any decision like that.” Shoving the shirt into the locker, Arcann stood staring into it for a moment, then closed it with exaggerated care, keeping the door quiet even though she was not going to wake up while she was sedated. 

How could this have happened? How could Theron have done this to her? The questions had no answer, might never have answers, and the entire situation seemed impossibly far-fetched. Theron had to have known what it would do to Selirah to see someone that she loved and trusted point a gun at her again, betray her again, try to kill her again. A flush of anger suffused him at the thought of how it had felt for him to feel her pain and grief at Theron's attack on her and Lana, and he let the rage fill his senses, coiling through his emotions and pushing out every other thought. A startled noise from Vette pulled him out of his reverie, and Arcann realized he'd been holding the door handle on Theron's locker with his cybernetic hand, and while thinking, he had tightened his fingers unconsciously and crushed the handle almost entirely into a flattened, finger-marked metal mass. Carefully uncurling his fingers and pulling them free, he gave Vette an apologetic look. “I was.. thinking. I didn't mean to do that.”

“Thinking about crushing that kriffing lying traitorous coward Shan's throat, I should think,” Pierce muttered darkly, his brown eyes shifting to Selirah's slender form, buried under the blankets. Drugged, she didn't sprawl out in her sleep the way she normally would, and she looked small and sad, laying on her side in a defensive curl, one fist tucked up under her chin. “At least Quinn had a pretty decent reason for his betrayal, back then. I wouldn't have wanted to be in his place, caught between two Sith. Course, I wouldn't have chosen Baras' side, if it'd been me,” he added loyally, and Vette cracked a half of a smile in response, punching his massive arm with a small fist. 

“Yeah, me either!” she agreed. “So, are you sure you want us to leave his stuff here, Arcann? We could box some of it up and at least put it out of sight.” 

Arcann glanced around the room, seeing the signs of Theron everywhere. He didn't know what Selirah was going to do when she woke up. She'd been nearly catatonic on the shuttle, and it was possible she'd still be in the grip of shock when she slept off the sedative – but she could wake up ready to fight, too, and he wasn't sure she would thank him for taking away the only things she had on hand to use to punish the absent, traitorous Theron. “Take the slicing gear, the calibration scanners, the blaster. Take the slicing things to Lana, to be checked out, just to be sure there's nothing to learn from any of it. Don't touch the clothing or the locker. I don't think she'll care about the other stuff,” he said, finally, making a decision. Vette and Pierce went to work immediately, packing away the gear and items that he'd indicated. 

When they disappeared with the last of it, Pierce closed the door behind him, leaving Arcann to his thoughts. He wanted to lie down next to Selirah and wait for her to wake up – but something about the bed repulsed him, and he felt unsure if it was her sleeping mind providing the feeling or his own. It was impossible to separate anything about their life here from Theron, especially his since he had joined them here in the Empress' chambers. From the very first night, when he'd caught Theron watching him with naked appreciation in his eyes as he'd undressed for bed, to the first time they'd all been together intimately, to the first time he'd been intimate with just Theron.. to the very last time, when he'd almost told Theron that he felt more for him than their close friendship. The anger spiked again, furiously, at the memory of that moment of vulnerability, of trust that now was tainted by the association with Theron's betrayal of him and Selirah both. 

Arcann paced the lower part of the room, circling it slowly, one hand rubbing slowly over the short cropped strands of his hair, feeling the scars that no longer made him feel as self-conscious as they had when he'd first removed the mask that had protected his vanity and self-image as the Emperor of Zakuul. Anger pulsed through him with the rhythm of his heart, fury and hatred darkening every thought, creeping into every memory. And there were so many. So many moments together. A life together, that he'd resigned himself to sharing for decades with the relentlessly charming agent who'd had Selirah's heart before he'd known her. He'd accepted that, tolerated Theron. But tolerance was never enough for Theron; he needed more, wanted more. Acceptance, fondness. Love. It'd been impossible to resist him, which in light of the current predicament that they found themselves in, felt calculated in the extreme. Had the whole thing been a lie from the very beginning? Did Selirah think that Theron had been playing her all these years from the first meeting? Would she ever be able to believe anyone again, when they said that they loved her? Would she always be expecting a knife in the back, held by a beloved hand? Even from him?

The screen of the nearby computer abruptly cracked as he walked past it, the sound like a gunshot in the enclosed space, and Arcann took a deep breath, trying to get his violently strong emotions under control. He knew that he needed to stay focused and not let this overwhelm him. He'd worked so hard to find a balance, but some part of him could not let go of the fury. It felt satisfying to be angry; to picture what they would do to the traitor when they found him. He could sense Selirah's chaotic mind, and even in sleep, her presence in the bond spun drunkenly between hatred and love, thinking of Theron in her dreams. She might not have been able to bring herself to kill Quinn for his betrayal, but Arcann could feel that she knew that this situation had almost nothing in common with that one. Theron could have come to her, he should have come to her. But instead, he'd turned on her and everything that they'd accomplished. And he'd made her look the fool for trusting him; for loving him.

Selirah would not let Theron escape paying for this huge betrayal, and if she couldn't do it herself.. well. Arcann knew that he would gladly kill him for her. He might have to fight for the privilege of cutting Theron down, if the current of anger in the base was any reliable indicator of how people were feeling about his duplicity. Quinn, in particular, had been furious when the news had broken among the Alliance forces. 

And there was no way that Theron didn't know that as well, wherever he was hiding.

The bed still wasn't a place that he wanted to be, but as Arcann watched Selirah sleeping, her face turned towards Theron's empty place, he knew he couldn't leave her to wake up there alone. He stripped his tunic off, sitting down on the edge of the bed to remove his boots. She hadn't moved, the sedative keeping her relatively still, but when he slid under the covers, he saw her try to turn towards him, making it about halfway. So he pulled her closer to him, settling her head on his shoulder. 

Theron was gone, and his deceit had burned that bridge and then bombarded the smoking remains from space. Quinn was still here, but he didn't have her back, not yet. It should have felt better, knowing that he was the only one here, the only one in this room with Selirah. He should have felt like he'd won. That he'd gotten what he wanted at last.

But all he could feel was her pain, and it didn't feel anything like victory.

**Later:**

She was crying in the 'fresher.

Arcann woke up slowly, with a tremendous knot in his shoulder from the uncomfortable position he'd fallen asleep in while he held Selirah. He could hear her, and he was sure that she was only letting herself cry because she'd known he was still asleep. He was sure of this because suddenly, the sound stopped, and he couldn't help but imagine her in the small shower in the room with one hand covering her mouth, trying not to let him hear her. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and got up, heading over to the door. He opened it and came inside, looking through the plexi, through the droplets of water. Selirah stared at him, with her back pressed to the wall. Her eyes were red from crying, and as he opened the door to the shower, she ran her hands over them, flicking her fingers outward to clear the water from her skin. “Lana sent me a message to meet her. She has information,” she said hastily. Her enunciation was thick, as if she were still feeling the effect of the sedative, but her eyes looked alert. Arcann lifted a towel from a nearby wall hook, offering it to her. Selirah took it from his hand, and he felt a pang in his chest at the wary look in her eyes as she gazed at him, wrapping the towel around her body and tucking the end in under one arm. 

“Are you sure you want to go right now?” he asked, gently, backing up so she could come out of the shower. She stepped out, digging bare toes into the small rug outside the door, her gaze dropping to the floor, watching the droplets hit it as they fell from the ends of her lekku. 

“Don't have any choice.” 

“Yes, you do. I'll go, if you want. Or I'll send someone else, if you want me to stay here with you.” He followed her as she walked out into the bedroom, watching her take a surreptitious glance at Theron's storage locker and the crushed handle. She began pulling clothes out, soft comfortable things that she rarely ever wore. Some black pants, loosely woven and equally slouchy in fit, went on first, and she tied the drawstring around the waist, letting them sag slightly around her hips. Socks, low boots, and a soft fitting bra went on next, and she still had said nothing to him. Arcann was starting to think that she was going to ignore him and just leave, when she finally responded as she pulled on a loose-knit grey sweater on over her head, lekku sliding out of the wide neckline to twine around her shoulders in loose, crimson and black loops over her chest and back. 

“This... situation, it's my problem, Arcann. I can't hide behind you, or Quinn, or Vette, or anyone else who wants to protect me. You can't protect me. I'm not even sure that -I- can protect any of us. Theron knows everything about this operation. Everything about our personnel numbers, our tactics, our dispersion of troops. He knows everything about our ships, our soldiers. He knows our finances. Our codes. Our security.” Selirah looked at Arcann, and shrugged her shoulders fluidly. “Having him out there, loose, with all of our information is like having a bomb waiting to go off in our faces. I can't afford to lay here and have the total breakdown that I'd like to have. It will have to wait, while I try to keep us safe.”

“I understand.” Arcann took her hand in his, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. Selirah allowed the touch, but he could feel the tension in her arm, as if she wanted to pull away, but was forcing herself not to do it. Her eyes, when she looked up at him, gleamed with the sheen of tears, and then she slid her hand quickly free, turning away from him. “Seli, love.. don't..”

“Don't say that to me,” she snapped at him instantly, coldly, and he could feel the anger and guilt spilling from her as she walked away from him, heading towards the door. “I'm sorry, keella. I.. I have to go. I'm late.” Pausing in the doorway, Selirah glanced back at him. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it,” she apologized again, then disappeared into the hallway.

**Throne Room, Odessen:**

Lana was waiting at one of the large terminals when Selirah arrived in the throne room, and she glanced up, her gold eyes taking in the Empress' informal clothing and subdued demeanor. “We recovered most of the Adegan crystals,” she began. “Once we tap into their power, Iokath is as good as ours.”

“It will be a relief to not be fighting on two fronts, I suppose,” Selirah answered, leaning one hip against the side of the terminal and folding her arms across her chest. “And.. Theron?” 

“Word of his betrayal is spreading quickly.” Uncomfortable at the admission, Lana ducked her head, her eyes shifting away from Selirah's face. “My agents are running damage control, but it will be weeks before we know how much harm he inflicted.” She saw Selirah flinch at the wording, and continued hastily. “Even with the truth out in the open, I can hardly believe Theron was the traitor.”

“I loved him. And I never saw this coming. I'm still trying to figure out where the lies stopped and the truth began.”

“We'll be piecing that mystery together for months. He played us both. At least now we know our target. But we should brace ourselves for Theron's next move.”

Selirah straightened, stepping away from the terminal, tapping her fingers on her arm idly. “Theron's father may be dead, but his mother is still alive. Find out what she knows.”

“I already have feelers digging into Satele's whereabouts. I'll begin the hunt at once.”

“Lana. I'm going to send Theron a message. I don't know if it will reach him, or if he'll answer, but.. I have to at least try to open a communication channel.” Lana glanced at her as her fingers moved over the terminal keys, and the understanding look in her eyes made Selirah turn away. It was the same look that everyone had given her on the way here. Pity. They felt sorry for her. The one who had been played for a fool so easily by Theron Shan. Selirah couldn't decide what she hated more – the implication that she was a credulous idiot, or the fact that she was an object of pity because of that stupidity. “I just wanted to tell you, so you knew that I was planning to try to speak to him.”

“Thank you, Empress. If you would, let me know if you hear anything in return. Theron is too clever to leave any clues to his whereabouts in any message, but perhaps there will be something to be found. Some small detail. I know it's personal, but... it could help us find him.”

“Of course. Keep me apprised of any other findings.” 

Crossing to the throne, Selirah sank down into the embrace of the seat, her fingers slowly brushing across the metal arm as she considered what to say. One of the technicians brought her a datapad a short time later, and she pulled up as many of Theron's generic Holonet addresses as she could from her personal account, sending the same message to all of them.

_To: Theron_

_From: Selirah_

_We've been through a lot together, Theron. I never thought that things would come to this, and I suppose that makes me too trusting. I know that you feel your reasons are good ones, and that what you have done is necessary._

_But they are not good reasons, and what you're doing is dangerous and destructive. That's never who you were, Theron. I still can't believe that you would be willing to put so many people in danger for some nebulous idea of how peace should look._

_We could have worked together to find a solution. Come home, Theron. Not for me. You made your choice, and I respect that. I only hope that we can try to find a way to solve this together that doesn't end in so much bloodshed and death for innocent people._

_Come home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Alien Ant Farm version of Smooth Criminal. I'm old school and love the MJ version, but... this one was the inspiration. ;)


	90. Who's Gonna Drive You Home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn has a talk with his favorite person.
> 
> Then he has a talk with his -actual- favorite person, but doesn't quite get to tell her what he wanted to tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Umbara Spoilers:**
> 
> Only that this is post-reveal.

**Odessen Medical Bay:**

“Hey, Quinn. Can I ask you something?” 

Quinn turned to find Vette staring at him, her arms and legs crossed as she leaned against the doorframe of the medical bay. “Hello, Vette,” he replied dryly, getting up from the desk chair. “Is it something insulting? Because I don't have time for that right now. I'm up to my neck in extra work.”

“It's not insulting, I swear,” she told him earnestly, and the look on her face -was- surprisingly serious, at least for her. Somehow, the Twi'lek always looked as if she were on the verge of laughing, even at the worst of times. It was, oddly enough, probably the most endearing trait that she possessed, not that Quinn would have told her so even under the threat of torture. “And look, I know it's probably your least favorite thing to talk about, but..” Vette's voice trailed off into an embarrassed silence.

Quinn's shoulders drooped slightly without him even realizing it, and he sighed. “I see. Well. Ask your question, Vette. I expected as much, eventually.”

“It's not really so much about that as.. I'm just.. curious, because I know you loved her when..” One little blue hand waved, somehow encompassing the whole betrayal moment in that one gesture. “How did you go through with it? I mean.. you'd seen her fight. Against people a -lot- more dangerous than you. No offense. You had to know she was going to wreck you, right? So.. why did you do it? You loved her. You had to know she would hate you for it.” Quinn opened his mouth to comment, but Vette, in typical Vette-fashion, just kept going, chattering onwards as if she'd forgotten that the intent of this whole interview was to get answers from him. “Why not just refuse to try to kill her, or talk to her, or take her side like the rest of us did? Why did you do it if you loved her? How could you have looked at her, right in the face, and tried to shoot her?” 

When she finally stopped talking, Quinn waited patiently, making sure she wasn't going to just start again the moment he opened his mouth. But she just stood there, her jaw set stubbornly. “If you are looking for me to understand Shan's reasoning, Vette.. I don't. He knew what happened between Selirah and I, and why our relationship failed. He knew she would struggle to go through with actually killing him, though, so perhaps that was impetus to him to go through with it, assuming she would not be able to make herself end his life. It doesn't seem like a wise bet to make – I was sure she -would- kill me.” He sank down on the edge of his desk, and his blue eyes drifted away from Vette's face, growing distant with thought as he began to give it some thought. “If we assume he has truly turned on her, then he would have no real compunction against trying to kill her, even if he loves her like he claimed that he did. But if we assume that he hasn't.. it changes the reasoning.”

“What do you mean? How does it change it? He's still screwing everything up!” Vette threw up her hands in a helpless gesture, confused. “It's a stupid thing to do. Because let me tell you, I've seen the look on Arcann's face every day since she came back, and I don't think 'not dying' is a reasonable option here for Theron in -any- outcome. Prince Tall, Scarred, And Murderous is going to force choke him to death, and then find a way to bring him back and force choke him to death again for good measure. And then maybe cut him into bite-sized chunks and feed him to some big, toothy, stinky predator. And then drop the predator into a sarlacc pit. Pierce looks almost as pissed, and he's spent so much time on the shooting range that I think we're running out of targets. And the Mandalorians.. They always look kind of pissed, except Kass; but right now it's a different level of pissed.” 

“Of course it is a stupid thing to do. That's not even worthy of debate,” Quinn answered in a matter-of-fact tone, and Vette smirked, giving him a knowing look that he ignored pointedly. “Whether or not he's truly a traitor, however, is worthy of questioning. It's been plenty of time for Theron to have caused catastrophic damage to the Alliance. But nothing significant has happened, yet. Perhaps he wants to strike a death blow in the first attack. Or perhaps he's trying to get someone else to believe his sincerity. The reality is that most people turn on others at the urging of another person, in exchange for something that they believe they want more than being loyal. Power, or influence, or revenge, or money...” He shrugged, frowning thoughtfully. “The trouble, Vette, is that if you are Selirah, you cannot assume he intends no real harm without opening yourself and the entire Alliance up for damage. You must treat it like it is real, whether you believe it is or not.”

“And Selirah can't see anything right now but another person she loves turning on her, and trying to kill her.” Vette's words cut, but Quinn knew she was correct. “Sorry. I know you didn't want to do it. And she's forgiven you.”

“Has she? I haven't spoken to her since she came back. I've barely even seen her,” Quinn said before he could stop the words from coming out. This was feeling almost like a conversation between friends and he was -not- friends with -Vette-. “I feel like she's avoiding me, most specifically.”

Vette moved into the room, stretching out on her stomach on one of the hospital beds, her chin propped up in her hands. “She doesn't talk to anyone, as far as I can tell. Even Lana's looking a little left out these days. And ….” She bit her lip, glancing away from Quinn uncertainly. “Nevermind.”

“And?” Quinn asked, putting enough wheedling into his tone to flatter Vette, hoping she would finish the sentence. 

Vette didn't respond for a moment, but he could see her thinking about it, the thoughts written all over her expressive little face. “Look, you didn't hear this from me, but.. I know you care about her, and I'm pretty worried about how she's taking all this.” Quinn waited, impatient, but he kept that from his face, just watching her to see if she would come out with the rest. “She has been sleeping in my room, and I think it's starting to make Arcann nervous. I guess she slept on their couch the first night, then since then, when it gets really late, she just keeps coming to crash with me. I get why he's feeling badly about it but... I don't think she can stand being in that room right now, you know?” Vette frowned. “She told me that it suffocates her.”

“Of course. And you didn't take his things out of their room, did you?” 

“Nah, only the slicing stuff, things like that. Lana has them. Look, I know you want to gloat, Quinn. You might as well do it. Get it off your chest.”

“I don't, actually. I've been on the other side of this, watching her watch me with different eyes. Seeing the love and trust that was between us dying slowly, and knowing that I was the one who killed it. And worse, seeing the same thing happen to our relationship. I destroyed it, and...” He hesitated, then got up and moved to the door, closing it so that no one passing by would hear their conversation. “Vette, it just seems very strange to me.”

“What does?”

“Everything. This betrayal. Why would he do it? What was the goal? He could have let her die a thousand times, if destroying the Alliance was the point. Her death would likely have accomplished exactly that.” He walked slowly, a meandering path between the hospital beds, the supplies, his desk. Vette watched him from her prone position, her booted feet kicking idly in the air above her. “So why didn't he just let her die? Why not let Malcom shoot her? Something isn't right. I know she can't see past what he did, not right now. But every instinct tells me that something about all of this rings very false. I may not care for Theron Shan personally, and while I will not bother to act like having him gone is not beneficial in the long run for me and my feelings for Selirah, I also cannot deny that his relationship with her was.. enviable. I don't know what the reason for this betrayal really is, but something about it seems... “

“Suspicious? Questionable? Doubtful? Hinky?” Vette supplied, giving Quinn a cheeky smile when he shot her a disgusted look. “Hey, hey.. don't give me that snotty look, I'm listening, and you know what? You could even be right. They have been in love for so long now that... er, sorry. I know you probably don't want to hear that. But all I'm saying is it -is- really strange, now that I'm thinking about it the way you said. I'm not sure it makes sense either. Are you going to tell His Grumpy Highness? Or maybe Lana?” Vette slid off the bed she was lounging on, bouncing on her toes. Quinn watched her, suppressing the urge to smile; it would only encourage her in her obnoxious behavior. But Selirah did the same thing – bouncing on her toes like that when she was excited, and it just made him miss her company even more, and wish to seek her out.

“I'll talk to Selirah, and see where her thoughts are on the subject. Don't be loose-lipped about it until I have at least had the opportunity to see if she agrees, first. She won't appreciate it, if it becomes gossip, Vette,” he warned, and she rolled her eyes, but he knew she would keep silent to avoid hurting Selirah further. 

“You just want an excuse to talk to her.” Vette's accusation came without heat, though, and she even looked slightly approving of the idea. “It might be a good idea, actually. She's so...” The Twi'lek paused near the door, opening it. “You -really- didn't hear this from me, got it?” When Quinn nodded, she sighed and admitted, “She dreams about the train, and wakes up shouting his name. It's the worst sound, Quinn, like her heart is breaking all over again every time. So I hope you're right. I hope there's something more to this.” She waved at him, and disappeared into the hallway, leaving him to consider her words.

 **Odessen Forest:**

_Something pricked the outside edges of her senses, disturbing her meditations. Selirah's mind hung, suspended, deep in the force, and she let herself sink further, dismissing the momentary interruption as unimportant for the moment._

Quinn's approach didn't seem to register to the still form of the Twi'lek kneeling in the clearing on one of the large, water-smoothed river boulders. He came closer, but he knew better than to touch her or interrupt; that was a good way to end up tossed meters away, and there was no soft landing to be had here along the low water region of the riverbed. Smooth river pebbles lined the dry riverbed, and the water itself was shallow and cold. Circling her cautiously, Quinn caught sight of her datapad, laying beside her. A message was opened on the screen, and he glanced at it, unable to prevent himself from taking the quick look at some of the words after he realized that it was a message from Theron, reading a few lines with a twinge of guilt at his curiosity. 

_Seli, I saw your message on the HoloNet. I wish I could drop everything and leave with you, somewhere away from all this war and death...._

_Trust that everything I do is for the good of the galaxy._

_I don't expect you to understand. But however this ends, I just want you to know that I loved you from the moment I saw you. And I always will._

Selirah hadn't moved, her back rigidly still. Her lekku lay wrapped over her chest and shoulders, looped to opposite sides, the tips dangling down her back. Eyes closed, she seemed unaware of his presence, lost fully in her communion with the force. Quinn sat down near her, on another worn rock that showed the marks of water on the smoothed surface. Loosening his blaster, he laid it on his knee and kept an eye out for wildlife, watching over her patiently until she came out of her meditation.

Time passed, nearly an hour by his reckoning, and still Selirah sat motionless before him, her beautiful face serene. Her hands rested on her knees, palms down, and he saw one hand move, the fingers flexing slowly. She took a deep breath, and slowly opened her eyes, the violet irises bright against the black tattoos that surrounded them. “Malavai. Is something wrong?” The look on her face was so full of dread that Quinn felt terrible for even giving her a moment of fear that Theron had done something.

“No, that's not it. Everything is as expected back at the base. There's no new information, as far as I know. I only wished to speak with you privately, so I came to find you.” His words eased the worry from her face, and Selirah's shoulders relaxed, her eyes dropping to the datapad by her side. She picked it up, and Quinn saw her close the message out, tucking the device into the back of her belt. “I am concerned about you.”

She gave him an unreadable glance, eyes veiled by lashes. “I know. Everyone is.”

“They are. I don't want to see you hurt like this. Seeing you with him was painful, but it only hurt me. What he did..” Quinn swallowed down the surge of anger he felt, but he saw her eyes on him, watching him astutely, and he knew she had likely felt the emotion from him. “I have no right to feel the way that I do. Believe me, I know that.”

Her hands flexed lightly, the long fingers curving into fists on her thighs. Selirah stared at him for a long moment, then her eyes moved away from his face, dropping to her hands. “Tell me what you feel, Malavai.” 

The tone of her voice told him nothing about why she wanted him to tell her, but he had no wish to deny the softly given command. “I hate him. I hate him for hurting you. For betraying you. I am furious that he dared to turn on you. I cannot pretend to understand your feelings, Selirah. And I know that there is no way to hide from the truth that I too have turned on you, and hurt you. But I hope you know that I would die rather than ever fail you again.” Rising, Quinn came to where she sat, kneeling on the rock, her body poised and regal despite the way she had to be aching from the hard surface beneath her for so long. He knelt on the ground before her, bowing his head, feeling her gaze resting on him as if he could see her. “No matter what you choose to do, when we find him – know that I will support your decision.”

“I have no reason to question your devotion, and I trust in your loyalty. Don't fear that his transgressions are going to set my mind against you. The past is the past, the scars are healed, and I have forgiven you for your mistake.” Selirah's fingers touched his hair, slipping into the thick, dark strands. She slide her fingers in deeply, curving them lightly, not quite closing into a grip. But Quinn knew not to rise, not while she held him there, however gently she did so. “And if I do not kill him? What then, Malavai? Will you still accept what I have chosen?” she asked, enjoying the thick, silky texture of his hair against her skin.

Quinn drew in a slow, steadying breath, keeping his eyes cast down. He could feel her fingers gliding slowly through his hair in long, caressing strokes, and it felt exquisite after so much time apart. The anger he felt had not left him; quite the contrary, he was sure that it would remain part of him for a long time to come. But as she touched him, lightly, idly, he felt desire stirring into life, and tried to suppress it. This was no time to even mention it, not with Shan's betrayal still muddying the waters of her feelings. “I will support your decision. I'm not blind, Selirah. I know what he means to you. I may hate it, but I cannot place the blame for that at anyone's door but my own. There's no way for me to convince myself that you would want to kill him, even if you had him in front of you right now. You love him.” Quinn paused. “And he loves you.” 

Her fingers tightened suddenly, to the point of pain. But Quinn bit his lip, keeping his silence despite the pressure of her grip. “Don't say that to me,” Selirah told him coldly, but her fingers eased almost immediately, her hand lifting away. “I.. apologize. It's not something that I wish to talk about right now, and I am starting to feel as if I should not want anyone to love me. Not ever again, if this is what comes of it.”

Quinn rose, and she moved to the side for him, giving him space to join her if he wished. He sat on the stone next to her, turning so that he was facing her, his bent knee brushing against hers. “I don't think anyone would try to argue that your fears are unreasonable. There has been far too much betrayal in your life. Anyone would feel as if they were cursed, at this point,” he admitted, his dark blue eyes taking in the crimson curve of her fingers, curled into a loose fist on her knee. “I know what you said, and I respect your feelings. But I truly do question all of this. I don't know what is happening with him, or why he chose to turn on you when he did. But I've watched him around you, Selirah. I've seen him watching you when you weren't looking. Theron looked at you like you were the only person in the world for him. Doesn't that seem strange to you? That someone who felt that strongly for you would do this?”

She lifted her eyes to his face, and Quinn could almost feel the response coming before she made it. He couldn't restrain the flinch, and he knew Selirah saw his reaction as she spoke. “It felt quite strange the first time. Now, though.. all I can think is to wonder what it is about me that makes men who love me want to murder me. Is it something I can change? Or is the problem that I dared to love someone new, and trusted him?” Selirah worried her lower lip between her teeth, gently. “I am not trying to cause you pain, Malavai. But since I had this particular rug pulled out from beneath me once before.. it is hard to imagine that it could be insincere the second time any more than it was the first time. I do know that Theron loved me, though.”

Despite her words, Quinn could see the doubt in her eyes when she made the last statement, and sympathy swelled in his thoughts at the idea that Selirah would question something that had been so obvious to everyone any time they'd watched her with Theron in the past. Their connection had been instant – as the letter said, from the first time that Theron had seen her. He remembered very well the way his heart had broken all over again when she'd come back to the Fury, lit from within, laughing with Vette and Jaesa about the Republic agent that she'd met on Manaan. The fierce attraction had been clear for anyone to see from the very start. It was the moment that he'd known that he'd truly lost her, and it'd been a crushing realization.

“He did. Don't question that. Don't tear yourself apart wondering if any of it was real. There has to be something more to this than we know, Selirah. I don't have to like Theron Shan to know how he felt about you, and that it was genuine. You have never doubted yourself. I don't want to see you start now because of what he's done to you.”

Her face was in profile to him, but Quinn saw the glitter of tears in her eyes. It was unfathomable to him, the idea that she could ever be made to feel like she wasn't worthy of being loved. The very idea of it was repugnant to him. Daring greatly in the face of her rapidly shifting moods, he touched her hand, trying to be comforting. Her hand turned over, palm upwards, and she took his hand with hers, seizing it tightly with the speed of a striking snake, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping her afloat. “I can't help it,” Selirah admitted, and he heard the little hitch in her voice, something that was not quite a sob. “I don't know how to reconcile what he's done. I must have pushed him to it. I made him betray us all, somehow, Malavai. You have to let me feel this way, just for now. You have to let me feel terrible, because I -do- feel terrible. I know I can't let everyone else see it, but my heart. Malavai, it hurts, and I feel like I've lost part of me, forever. And I need to blame myself, even if it's only for this moment right now, because if it's my fault, then it's not Theron's. I can't face it being his fault right now. I need to be able to love him for a little while longer.”

Quinn's eyes stung painfully, and he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, drawing her close against him. His heart broke for her obvious anguish, her pain, her desperate wish to take the blame entirely upon herself so she could still love Theron, despite everything between them. She collapsed into his arms, her face buried against his chest, and he gathered her into his arms, holding her. Shoulders shaking, she clung to him, her arms wrapping around his waist. 

“You can say, or feel, anything you want with me,” he told her quietly. “I love you. I know you don't want me to say that, and I apologize for going against those wishes. But I think you need to know that I love you. Still. Always. Until my dying breath, and beyond. Nothing that you do will ever make me turn from you. We'll find him, and you will find answers. And no matter what those answers are, or what they mean for you, I will be at your side. I love you, Selirah. I'm not going to tell you that it's easy to love you.. I think you know that would be a lie.” She made a startled little half-choked laugh against Quinn's uniform, hiccuping in surprise. But she didn't argue with him, either. “You're stubborn, and always think you're right. You're spoiled, and you have a blistering temper. You hold grudges, and you're maddeningly beautiful, a fact which leads to all kinds of complications in your personal relationships. And your fondness for spacer swill alcohol and foods that remove a layer of skin going down your throat with their spiciness is objectively wrong and horrible. No, don't argue. You eat terrible things, Selirah. But you are strong, and loyal, and willing to fight and die for those that you care for or are protecting. You love with every fiber of your being. And you are loved, flaws and all, because you deserve to be loved. Because a life with you, difficult and challenging as it is, is far preferable to any kind of life without you. I know that entirely too well.” 

Quinn stroked a hand over her back beneath her lekku, keeping to as platonic a touch as possible. But as the minutes wore on, and Selirah made no move to pull away from him, Quinn found himself moving his hand higher, touching her tchun, his hand cupped to stroke over the curved lek in slow, soft caresses, fingers trailing over the sharp-edged lines of her tattoos. He remembered hours spent in bed together, touching her like this, tracing her tattoos, asking her about them. Her sleepy voice answering, telling him when she'd begun to get them, and how it'd become more of a personal ritual over time. A record of survival, strength, power, advancement. A map of her life on her skin. He remembered the wonder on her face when she'd seen her first thranta, the vorn tiger that had nearly dismembered her that she'd been awed by. She was harsh, and formed by a difficult life, but none of it seemed like a reason for Theron to suddenly decide she needed to be de-throned at any cost. And surely Theron had seen the same strength in her that Quinn had -- he'd wanted her to rule before. Nothing about this made sense, and he knew he had to explain all of this to her. It just felt like the wrong moment, though, and so he held his silence.

His hand was stroking her tchin when he realized she wasn't crying anymore. The stillness in her body wasn't entirely reassuring under the circumstances, and Quinn half-expected her to push him away, or simply leave. He knew he shouldn't have touched her like that, and he knew what it felt like to her – in a second-hand sense, of course. But even so, he'd overstepped, and he knew it. Stomach knotting nervously, he lifted his hand away, bringing it back to the far more neutral territory of the small of her back. 

“Did you actually mean all of that?” Selirah asked, her voice quiet.

Quinn offered her a dry cloth from his pocket, and she wiped her face, carefully erasing the marks of sadness from beneath her eyes. “Yes, I did. Especially the part about the spacer swill,” he told her dryly, and was rewarded with another laugh, soft and hesitant, but genuine. “I meant it all, Selirah. Don't doubt yourself. Perhaps we don't have the whole picture, yet.”

“Perhaps not,” she said, laying her cheek against his shoulder. “I will think about it. Thank you for coming to me, Malavai. And thank you for letting me.. be Selirah for a while. Not the commander. Not the Empress. Just me. You have always let me be myself without reservation, and I needed that so badly.” 

Quinn could smell the sweet, exotic scent of her favorite oil on her skin, and the faintly spicy-sweet scent that was just her beneath it. Her forehead, bisected by the delicately carved and fitted ornamental headband that she wore, was practically touching his cheek. This close, it was intoxicating to be holding her again, touching her. It was hard not to press his lips to her skin, kiss her forehead and wait for her to look at him, to perhaps let him kiss her. But one transgression was quite enough for one day, he told himself firmly, taking himself in hand and controlling his emotions. “Are you ready to go back to the base?” 

Selirah smiled, and the expression was nothing like her usual smiles. It was small, and sad. “I cannot hide out here, no matter how much I might want to do exactly that. I agreed to take on this Alliance, and to defend my people against anyone who meant to harm them. The fact that I never thought I would be doing that against one of them doesn't change my responsibility. I can't run away now that it's Theron that I must face as an enemy.” She slid down off the rock, her hand moving down his arm as she landed on her feet. It stayed in his gloved hand, though, and she did not move to pull it free. 

Quinn closed his fingers on hers, moving to join her on the ground. “You aren't facing this alone. And it's getting late. Get a good night's sleep, and perhaps you'll feel ready to start fresh again in the morning.” 

Her smile slipped, disappearing slowly. “I can't. Sleep well, that is.” Selirah lowered her eyes, looking at their joined hands, and Quinn felt her fingers tighten lightly on his, as if she wanted reassurance, or just to feel the touch of his hand against hers. “All I can see is his blaster, aimed at me. See him firing. Hear his words, and see him turn his back on me, and blow the track, and leave me there to die. I can't sleep, Malavai. I keep trying to stop it, to make him stay, but I never can.”

“I'll give you something to help you sleep tonight. You have to rest. Selirah,” Quinn hesitated, uncomfortably. “Is part of the problem being in the room where you lived with Theron?” 

She chuckled mirthlessly. “Of course it is. I see him everywhere. Everywhere in the base. The war room, the cantina. There's nowhere to go to escape my thoughts of him, or my memories of him.”

“You can sleep in my room. I'll find another bed for the night.”

Selirah glanced at him, sidelong, and stepped out onto the trail back to the base. Quinn followed, in no small part because she still had his hand in hers. “Thank you.” 

“I meant what I said, Selirah. I am by your side until the end, no matter what.”

She smiled at him again, and this time, it looked less sad to Quinn's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. ;) I had to recharge a little bit, but finally the wheels were turning again.
> 
> So much love to the people who gave me great feedback and thoughts on storyline, future events, and told me it was okay to take a breather to figure out how to handle the reveal's ramifications. You guys know who you are, and I am so appreciative of you. You're amazing. <3


	91. What About Us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn and Arcann butt heads.
> 
> Selirah, Quinn, and Arcann compare ideas.
> 
> Selirah and Arcann mend fences. And by mend fences I mean make up. And by make up I mean.. oh, you get the picture.

“Open the door, or I'll open it right through you.”

“I'm not stopping you out of rudeness. I'm trying to let the Empress sleep.”

“Why is she sleeping in there? Nevermind. I don't want to hear it from you. Open the door!”

“With all respect.. no.” 

Selirah rolled over in bed, one hand outstretched, fingers brushing a wall instead of Theron or Arcann's familiar bodies. This wasn't her room. It took a moment or two for her to remember that Quinn had given her something to help her sleep, that this was his room, and his bed. She stretched lazily, opening her eyes as the argument outside registered on her senses, feeling the soft fabric of shorts and a loose shirt against her skin. The rest of her senses were slower to awaken, but once they did, she came to full alertness in a burst, throwing herself out of bed and barely missing cracking her shin on the desk chair a few feet away. Her palm slapped against the door lock, and as it slid open, Quinn nearly fell right into her, stumbling backwards as the support disappeared. Selirah's hands braced him from behind as he straightened himself automatically, stepping aside so that the doorway was clear for her as she folded her arms across her chest. She didn't look at him, keeping her attention on Arcann, his expression shifting rapidly from fury to confusion. 

“You slept with him?” His voice sounded surprisingly calm, but his eyes were narrowed, fixed on her face. “Do you think it's going to make this better somehow?”

“Keella, before you get too far into your temper... No. I didn't. If you'd just asked, Quinn would have told you that I slept here alone, and he gave me a sedative so I wouldn't keep waking myself up with nightmares.” Selirah left the doorway, coming closer to the prince, her hands dropping down to her sides. She took his right hand in hers, and waited until his fingers ceased to be tense, feeling the anger start to drain away from him. The pale blue eyes softened, resting on her face. “I just needed to sleep, and I couldn't do it in our bed.”

“You could have told me that, Seli. I would have understood. It's hard for me too, and it's worse when you're not there.” Arcann's shoulders relaxed out of their tense lines, and he turned his head towards Quinn. “I apologize, Major. I should not have assumed the worst.”

Quinn's coolly expressionless face gave nothing away of his thoughts, and his tone was studiously bland as he inquired, “Of me, or of her?”

Selirah felt Arcann's hand move towards the hilt at his belt, and she tightened her hand in his firmly, refusing to allow him to pull it free too easily. His emotions spiked with indignation and anger, and she spoke into the crackling silence, trying to defuse the tension between the two men. “Of you, Quinn, of course. There is no question that of the two of us, you are the least prone to impulsive behavior. By quite a margin.” _Theron was better at this._ The thought came unbidden, and she pushed it back down immediately, focusing on the issue at hand. “I want to talk to you both, actually. And while I appreciated the loan of your room for the night, Quinn.. I won't require it again tonight, so you can sleep in your own bed again. Thank you for helping me.”

“There's no need for thanks,” Quinn told her, watching as she went back into the room, and then politely turning his back as she began dressing. Arcann's gaze on him was disdainful, but he seemed willing to tolerate his presence now, waiting with his arms crossed until she returned to the hall. “What do you need to talk to us about?”

“You seemed to have some thoughts on our current predicament, Quinn,” Selirah said briskly, heading down the hallway towards the war room and her own chambers and leaving the two of them to follow her. “And I know that I was not in any frame of mind to discuss it yesterday, so I wanted to sit down and talk about it now that I have a night's sleep behind me. I don't want to put it aside and risk being unprepared for the retaliation that is surely coming.” She led them into her chamber, deliberately choosing the lounge chair situated near the couch arrangement and stretching her legs out, ankles crossed neatly. Arcann sank down on the couch in a comfortable, lazy sprawl, his left arm stretched along the back of the couch and one booted foot nearly touching the end of Selirah's chaise. Quinn took the other side of the couch, almost directly opposite the prince, but with a far more rigidly upright position in his seat. “Let's hear it.”

“Understand that I have no proof for this,” Quinn began, folding his hands lightly together in his lap. “It is merely my observations. But I think perhaps we have been viewing the situation only through a singular lens when it's possible there's another option. The assumption has been that Theron has turned on the Alliance, and on you, because he thinks it is corrupt and rotting, a symbol of everything that he has fought against. This wars somewhat intrinsically with the fact that Theron himself had plenty of input and power in creating the very system he now says he can't support. It also requires that we believe that he would turn on you in particular, Selirah. And I am aware that it would feel particularly authentic to you, and traumatizing..”

“Because of -you-,” Arcann interjected icily, his voice a low growl of sound that was implicitly threatening. “Because you did exactly what Theron did. Are you trying to find an excuse for him because it makes -you- feel less guilty for your actions?”

“Nothing makes me feel less guilty for what I did,” Quinn replied with quiet dignity, giving Selirah an apologetic look. “Not even the fact that the Empress forgave me for my transgression. And I am not looking for an excuse for Theron so much as attempting to point out that there -is- another explanation that we have overlooked.”

“You think that he is attempting to draw attention away from whatever the truth is, that's what you're saying? That he may not have actually become a traitor, but is trying to convince someone else that he has?” Selirah inquired, and when Quinn nodded in confirmation, continued doubtfully, “I suppose it's an option. But I don't understand why he wouldn't tell me. Why would he keep it secret from me? From Arcann? From Lana? He knew what I would think. He knew it would be devastating to me to feel that he'd turned on me. And Quinn.. he shot at me. He sabotaged the train that we were on, trying to kill me. How do you explain that?”

“He can't, because there's no explanation for that. The Theron that we knew would never have hurt you like that. Not after Rishi, and not when he could have told you the truth.” Arcann shrugged, his right arm joining the left atop the sofa back, head propped up lazily against his right hand. “I'm not going to deny that the thought crossed my mind that he could have been performing for someone else, but who? We have no idea who else could be involved, and to date, the only person that we know for a fact is a a traitor is Theron. I think it's reaching to hope that it's some convoluted plan that he hatched.”

Quinn leaned back against the couch finally, turning slightly so that Selirah was more in his view. She lay reclined on the lounge chair, her weight partly on the hip nearest to him, body stretched out and following the sinuous curve of the seat. “I'm aware that it's reaching, but I don't think it's more out of the realm of possibility than the idea that Theron would turn on her. None of us can possibly doubt that he was deeply invested in your relationship, and in the Alliance that he helped to build and fought to consolidate. Why would he suddenly do something so destructive? Why not talk to you first if he had problems with it?”

“He said he was afraid I would try to talk him down,” Selirah interjected, and rolled onto her back fully, one arm coming up to lay across her eyes, blocking them from view. “He didn't want me to try to stop him.” Arcann's eyes moved to her prone form, and the habitually aloof expression on his face changed to concern. “I'm fine, keella,” she added abruptly, and Quinn was struck again by their level of connection to each other, something that he didn't fully understand yet. “But I wish he had talked to me, no matter what story is the truth. Even so... Quinn, have you brought this idea to Lana, yet?”

“Not yet, Selirah. I wanted to talk to you about it first, and see what you felt about it. You know him best.. I felt that you would have the best idea of whether or not it was a viable alternative to the narrative that we have been given by Theron Shan.”

“Tell her that I want her to investigate any possibility that Theron was misleading me.. us. If you can assist her in any way, I would appreciate it if you could. It will add to her already monumental task to have another avenue to go down, and she will need the help. Ask Vette as well, and... Gault. See if he has any ideas of someone who could be involved besides Theron. And see if she's had any luck in finding Satele Shan,” Selirah ticked the tasks off with her fingers, but even without looking, she knew Quinn was likely taking notes on his datapad while she spoke. “I'm not sure that I want to believe that he'd do this to me as a front for information-gathering or infiltration any more than I wanted to believe he'd really turn on me. But I can't deny that your idea has merit, Quinn. Thank you.” She lifted her arm slightly, and smiled at him, her violet eyes resting on his face. “Perhaps it will help us find him more quickly.” 

Quinn rose, giving her a respectful nod and Arcann an unreadable look as he turned to leave. When she heard the door close behind him, Selirah slid her forearm up to her forehead, turning her attention on the prince. “You would have known, keella, if I had done something last night. That was pointless theatrics. Were you just trying to intimidate Quinn? Because he is not someone who is easily intimidated, and it was unnecessary besides.”

“You've hidden it from me before, and I know that you could again, if you wished. That wasn't the thing I was afraid of, though,” Arcann told her, rising to his feet and coming to join her. He sat down next to her on the lounge, and she made room with her legs, tucking them around him. His cybernetic fingers stroked over her hip to her stomach, fingers spreading with a quiet hydraulic sound as she lay still beneath his touch. “I don't want you to stop sharing your thoughts with me, love. You have spent time sleeping elsewhere so you weren't reminded of Theron, walking in the woods and grieving alone – I don't want to lose you by degrees, as you learn to rely on everyone else, and not me. I know that Theron's betrayal is incredibly painful to you, and I know that he's gone, but I'm not, Seli. I'm still here. Don't forget me while you're dealing with the pain, because I need you, and I hope you still need me.” 

Her hand dropped away from her face, coming down to rest over his metallic fingers. “You're right,” Selirah admitted, and slid over on the lounge, making space for him. Arcann stretched out beside her on his side, his arm wrapped around her, and she twined her fingers with his, holding his left hand. “I'm sorry, keella. I've been shutting you out, and it's not fair. He left us both, betrayed us both; not just me. I know this hurts you too, and I know you cared about him, more than he knew.”

Arcann made a disgusted, angry growl deep in his chest, and she curved her body closer to his, her head pillowed on his broad shoulder, face tucked in against his neck. “I'm glad that I didn't tell him. I only wish I could have been with you on Umbara. I hate that you had to face that with Lana and not with me by your side. I would have killed him,” he promised, and she could hear the thread of rage blossoming in his deep voice, the anger flooding their bond, flowing between them freely. “I will kill him for turning on you.” 

Selirah closed her eyes, listening to him, feeling his fury. The sensation was immensely seductive, enticing to her. She wanted more. “He answered me.. my letter. Told me it was best for the galaxy, what he was doing. Said he'd always loved me, while explaining why he'd betrayed me and crashed a train with me still on it.” Arcann's anger rose hotter at her words, as she'd suspected it would, and she let it wash over her, remembering what it felt like to embrace her rage and to hate her enemies, to use that strength to defeat them. It was what Theron had thought of her anyway; an oppressor, he'd called her. That her vision had failed, hadn't brought peace. 

Peace. 

As if there could ever be peace. Theron had thrown their relationship away for an impossible, ridiculous ideal, one that would never be achieved.

“We'll find him. He can't hide forever, and when we find him..” Arcann tucked a finger under her chin and lifted it, his eyes meeting hers. She gazed into his eyes, seeing the flicker of yellow bleeding into the blue irises. Letting go of his other hand, she brought both of her hands up to cup his face, kissing him. Selirah closed her eyes, forcing herself to stop letting the anger take control. There was more than enough reason to be angry, but her own indulgence in it was one thing. Letting it take Arcann's hard-earned balance away from him just to indulge her fury at Theron's betrayal was an entirely different thing, and she found herself feeling ashamed that she'd let herself provoke him so badly. 

“We'll find Theron, keella, but.. I don't want to talk about him anymore for now. Just us.”

Arcann slid a knee between hers, pushing them apart slightly as he moved over her, lifting the weight of his heavier body up off her with his hands, bracing himself above her. His lips never left hers, and she arched up into him, her hands sliding down over his shoulders and back, feeling the sheer strength of his muscles beneath her hands with a sensation of pleasure and desire. It wasn't obvious who started undressing the other first, but within moments, they were both pulling each other's clothes off as fast as possible, throwing each piece aside, consumed only by the need for each other and to remind themselves that they weren't alone.

Selirah threw her head back, laughing at his eagerness as he lifted her up easily, guiding her legs around his waist as he sat her on his lap. His hands guided her hips up, and then down over his cock, slowly bringing her down over him. Arcann's deep groan of pleasure was echoed by her own tremulous whimper as his hips lifted, pushing deeper until her hips were pressed tightly against his, their bodies joined firmly together. The anger that he'd been feeling drained slowly away, and she looked into his face, seeing the familiar ice-blue shade of his eyes looking back at her as he lifted her into his arms, his fingers curved around the sleek contour of her rear. “I love you, Seli,” Arcann told her, his lips curved into a small, intimate smile before he kissed her, carrying her over to the bed. 

Laying her on the bed, her hips barely at the edge of it, Arcann leaned over her, lifting her arms over her head. He pinned her wrists there, his hand wrapped around them, and his free hand came down to hold her leg up over his hip as he thrust into her roughly. Their eyes met, holding each other's gaze, and she opened herself fully to the force, losing herself in their bond as he did the same. They could feel each other's emotions, the sensations of their bodies – it created a level of intimacy that was impossible to duplicate with anyone who didn't share the connection that they did. He moved over her, his hips guiding his strokes, and his hand slid down the outside of her thigh to her hip, fingers tracing over her crimson skin. Her legs tightened around his hips, drawing him deeper inside her, holding him there. 

Sliding a hand under her waist, Arcann lifted Selirah, moving her further up the bed, careful not to catch her long, slender lekku beneath her as he laid her back down. She pushed him over onto his back, following him with her thighs gripping his hips, keeping his cock inside her so that she could move over him, riding him in circling, teasing motions, hips gliding with deliberation, prolonging both of their pleasures for as long as possible. Her violet eyes gazed into his, and she licked her lips, her body undulating gracefully, hands resting on either side of his chest. Sitting up under her, Arcann pulled her against him, letting her continue to control the pace, but bringing her lips to his. He kissed her passionately, and she bit his lip, sucking it lightly, tongue flicking teasingly against his. 

His fingers spread against her back, feeling the muscles move under her skin as her hips rocked against his, her thighs spread, knees bent under her on the bed as she straddled his lap. Arcann held her lightly, letting her lose herself inside the sensations she could feel from him in the bond, his desire for her, and his love. Selirah arched against him, her body tensing, and he felt her climax, coming apart for him, in his hands, wrapped around him tightly, the unbelievable wash of release forcing him over the edge as well. Arcann's hands tightened, and he held Selirah down over him, his hips jerking upwards, burying himself inside her as deeply as he could and letting the shuddering ecstasy wash away all of the terrible events of the last few days entirely for a few moments. 

Later, tangled together with Arcann sleepily but with a whole day of work yet ahead of her, Selirah rolled over and pulled Theron's pillow against herself, pressing it to her nose. The familiar scent of his favorite soap clung to the fabric and went straight to her brain, and she felt the grief roll over her like a wave, burying her. Arcann's arms tightened lightly around her, and his hands stroked her stomach soothingly, feeling her pain and stirring into wakefulness. She rolled over to face him, pillow still held in her arms, and he laid his cheek against it, letting her feel his own pain at Theron's absence, knowing she didn't want to feel alone in missing him, no matter how angry they both were at what he'd done.

Right now, the anger just didn't matter as much as the loneliness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys, all of you, the commenters, the kudos, the anonymous and quiet readers. 
> 
> It's my birthday *throws confetti* so I hope you enjoy the chapter and know that I appreciate you all.
> 
> You can still chew me a new one if you hated it though, I won't mind. ;)
> 
> Chapter title is the new Pink song. <3
> 
> _What about us?  
>  What about all the times you said you had the answers?  
> What about us?  
> What about all the broken happy ever afters?  
> What about us?  
> What about all the plans that ended in disaster?  
> What about love? What about trust?  
> What about us?_


	92. Pictures of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine and Twelve make a discovery in Hutt Space.
> 
> Quinn has drinks with the gang.
> 
> Nox is shady.
> 
> Jaxan gives some advice.

**Hutt Space, Planet Undisclosed:**

_Target visible soon. In position?_

“I've been in position for hours. My backside is numb, and so is everything else.” 

_I could rub that for you, once the job is done._

“Thanks, but no thanks. Blech.” 

_Rude._

Nine had been laying in position and waiting for long enough that one leg had fallen asleep twice. She could feel it starting to tingle again, and she shook her booted foot lightly, trying to head off the pins and needles sensation before it became too intense and distracting. The lenses covering her eyes cleared glare and sharpened her vision to an acute level, and she settled her rifle more comfortably, looking through the sight towards the building in the valley below. 

Her ledge was barely wide enough for her body, and the rock was prone to crumbling if she moved too hastily. So she'd been still, waiting, and now it was nearly time. People were coming and going below, and she saw a speeder approaching. “Someone is arriving,” Nine said softly, and the voice in her ear spoke with patient reassurance. 

_Likely the reason the target will be exposed. Stay on the door._

The double doors to the building opened, and two bulky guards emerged, holding the doors deferentially. A cloaked and masked figure stepped from the dark interior, and Nine exhaled slowly, her finger tightening on the trigger. The guest had dismounted from the speeder bike, but she didn't spare a thought for him, her eyes on the cloaked man. 

Her finger squeezed once, and the robed figure fell back as if he'd been punched in the face, crumpling to the ground. She retargeted, and fired again, taking out the left-hand guard. Retarget. Fire.

“Target down. Guards down. Retire the guest?”

_No. Tag him, if possible. Perhaps he will lead us somewhere useful._

Nine flipped a switch on the rifle, watching the frantic movement below. People were dragging the target and the downed guards into the building, but the guest was looking around, searching for her. She was hidden beneath the lip of the cliff, on a tiny ledge, in dark clothing, but even so, his eyes swept over her hiding spot briefly and she felt an unaccustomed stir of unease that he would see her. It wasn't likely, or probable. But it almost felt like his eyes met hers for the briefest of seconds. 

“Get an image. Tagging now.” She exhaled, and fired. The tracer bullet separated in the air, taking two trajectories that were only slightly altered from each other. She saw the guest flinch as the first fragment grazed his leg, just above the knee. The tracking fragment should have hit one of his boots, and would embed there, giving them a method of following him, unless it was discovered. At least it would lead to some further intel. 

He fled inside, limping on the grazed leg, but she'd caught a better look at his face. As had her partner, apparently.

 _That is.. unexpected. Tracker is active. Image obtained. Head back when you can._

“Should we amend mission, given this new information?”

_No. It's too dangerous to try to change parameters. Head back. We will talk about this at the safehouse._

Nine began disassembling her rifle, breaking it down. Packing her gear, she carefully slid over the edge of the crumbling stone ledge, her black and grey-clad form blending in to the rock face as she began the long, slow climb up to where she'd left her speeder bike under a concealing net. One hand reached for a small hold, fingers biting into the rock, her body weight dangling from it as her toes found a grip, pushing upwards a few feet to search for the next hold. Up she went, slowly, inch by inch, searching out lips of rock and the few footholds that weren't crumbling. 

Pulling herself up over the top edge, Nine lay there for a moment, catching her breath. She'd gotten a clear look at the new arrival, and there was no doubt in her mind that the face she'd seen had been Theron Shan – former Republic SIS agent, estranged son of Satele Shan, and newly disavowed traitor to the Eternal Alliance.

**Safehouse (Hutt Space, Planet Undisclosed):**

Slinging her bag onto a chair near the door, Nine locked the door securely behind herself. Twelve was at the table, a shifting array of data streams flashing across his face from the portable terminal in front of him. “What's the play?” the younger agent asked curiously, his fingers dancing over the interface. Nine pushed his feet roughly off the second chair, ignoring his grunted protest, and flopped down with boneless grace. 

“Send an encrypted message to this address. Send him the images, but scramble them.” Nine pushed her hood down, brushing the rock dust and dirt from her chest with one hand. Black hair confined in numerous, tiny, delicate braids was twisted back into a businesslike knot behind her head, and she loosened it with the other hand, shaking out the braids and letting them tumble around her shoulders and down her back. Her dark skin was dusted with cobalt and black rock dust, and she picked up a wet cloth from the table, swiping it over her face, relieved to remove some of the itchy dust. A real wash would have to wait until later.

Twelve paused the data stream, sending information to Nine's datapad, and then glanced back to the constantly moving informational panel, his dark eyes flicking back and forth too quickly to follow. “Does this change things?”

“For the client, no. Job is done,” Nine told him calmly. “For us.. maybe. There's something bigger going on here. A lot bigger. This little sighting and the tracker's data could be a game changer.” She sat back in her chair, one booted foot hooked under a bar between the legs of Twelve's chair. Leaning her chair back, she balanced it on two legs, pulling up the holo image on the datapad. “This information is worth a significant amount to the right person.”

“The Empress of the Eternal Alliance?”

“Yes, but she's not the only one who would value this lead.” Raking her fingers through her braids, Nine twisted the sides back, tying the slim braids into a knot behind her head. “Acina is perhaps where we should take it. Imagine her gratitude at being able to present the news herself to her ally.”

Twelve raised his eyebrows, amused. “True, but do we really want to land back on Dromund Kaas? Back into the maw of the beast when we've managed to stay clear of that leash for so long?”

Nine shrugged indifferently. “Let's see what my contact says. Then we'll make a decision. For now, I'm going to catch a little sleep. Tell me when we get a response.”

“Got it.”

**Odessen Cantina:**

“Major Quinn! Come join us!” Nox's deceptively sweet voice rang through the noise in the cantina, reaching Quinn's ears effortlessly, and he turned to look for the small blonde Inquisitor, finding her ensconced in one of the private rooms. She was curled up in a corner of the couch there, a glass of wine in one gloved hand, and when he came into the doorway, he saw that the 'us' was accurate; both Lyorek and Jaxan were present, the Zabrak and Jedi wrapped up in each other on the loveseat on the back wall of the room, talking to each other in low tones. “I won't take no for an answer. Come sit down, regale me. These two are offensively, incredibly boring,” she sang out cheerfully, pointing at the other two with an accusing finger. 

There was no way to flee now without paying for it later, so Quinn entered the room, taking the opposite end of the couch. Nox waved down one of the droids, eyeing Quinn thoughtfully as if she were taking his measure. “Corellian whiskey? No. Brandy. Something smooth,” she told the droid, making a shooing motion with one hand to send it on its way. “You are an enigma, Quinn.”

Quinn arched a brow over one blue eye, leaning back against the cushion and resting his arm on the edge of the couch. “Why is that? I should think I'm quite the opposite of that to someone of your experience, Darth Nox.” The droid trundled back in with the brandy, and Quinn accepted the glass, sipping the amber liquid with an appreciative sigh. 

“You have an opportunity here that no one could have reasonably planned for, and yet you have not taken advantage of it.” Nox took a drink from her own wineglass, swirling the red liquid with idle disinterest. “Instead, you are spending all your time expending effort to find our fatherless traitor, and no time charming our lonely Empress back into your patiently waiting arms. Why -is- that?”

Cheeks flushing red with embarrassment, Quinn took a deep breath, inhaling the incredibly silky scent of the brandy in his glass with the action. “It's not really the best time, Darth Nox. She's having a difficult time with Shan's defection, understandably, and I wanted to lend a hand in an area where I could be of use, and take some of the strain off her shoulders. It's not as if she doesn't know how I feel, after all. I'm not sure what else I could reasonably be expected to do. And while Theron is gone and has done an exceptionally thorough job of burning his bridges with everyone here, especially Selirah – Arcann is still very present, and to say he has an antagonistic relationship with me would be an understatement.”

“There are barriers to every desirable outcome,” Jaxan said, his voice quiet and genuinely sweet in a way that Nox's never quite managed to achieve. It always felt as if the Dark Lord had a charming veneer placed carefully over a venomous core, and in Quinn's experience, that was a fairly accurate reading of the Inquisitor's real personality. “The challenge is knowing whether or not the end result is worth the means of achieving it. The Empress is your former wife, yes? And you love her? If she loves you too, then it should be a fairly easy decision to make.”

“I've seen her with him. She loooooves him.” Lyorek piped up slyly, drawling out the O in an exceptionally annoying manner. “It's amazing that she doesn't rip his clothes off every time they're in the same room. Watching the two of them carefully -not- make eyes at each other is quite possibly the most entertaining thing I've ever seen. The pent up passion is delicious. I can practically taste it.” He laughed at the pinched expression on Quinn's face, winking at him deliberately. “It's true, you needn't look at me like that, Quinn. I can only assume she's using it to feed her power, because she's definitely fighting back a lot of emotion where you're concerned, and I can't see the point, now. It's not as if she can take Agent Tightpants back after this.” 

Nox shot Lyorek a glare, and the Zabrak sullenly subsided, sinking back into the embrace of the blonde Jedi. “You spend too much time around that stupid Twi'lek,” she snapped, then clarified in a much less aggressive tone, “Vette, of course, not our magnificent leader. However, Lyorek has a significant point, as does his pet Jedi.” Both Lyorek -and- Jaxan gave her sour looks at that, but she ignored them blissfully, continuing on as if she had seen nothing. “Her feelings for you are evident to the rest of us, and no one would judge her for seeking comfort. Particularly not with you, Quinn. She loves you, and you love her. Surely Arcann can accept a slightly altered situation? It's not as if he wasn't sharing her attention with Theron before, and you have by far the stronger claim on her heart.”

“With all possible respect, that's not how relationships work, Darth Nox. I don't win simply because I married her years ago, because I destroyed that bond between us with my actions. She has forgiven me, and I will never cease to be grateful for that second chance, but it doesn't mean that I have any right to assume she will want me back, or that it's going to happen. Her life went on in the years we were apart, and I can't just push those relationships aside, and I can't expect her to do it either.” Quinn finished his brandy, feeling the slow warmth from the liquor spread down his throat to his stomach. He could also feel the knots in his belly that seemed to follow any discussion of Selirah, and his chances with her. He was beginning to despair of ever having another night like the one that they'd spent together. Theron's actions were having far-reaching consequences, and Quinn wasn't sure she would ever let him back into her life like that again, after the former agent's unexpected betrayal had cut her to the bone. “I nearly got her killed on Iokath, thanks to your little trickery, and I haven't forgotten that. More, I don't think she has, either.”

“Oh, that little thing,” Nox said airily, waving her hand and sipping her wine appreciatively. “It was nothing, just a game. And she's -fine-. You're worried about nothing. Nothing you couldn't fix, talented as you are. Medically speaking.” 

Quinn thinly managed to avoid rolling his eyes at her, but he could see the amusement in her big blue eyes, the doll-fine features set in innocent lines. “You knew exactly what you were doing, Darth Nox. I would rather be left out of your games, in the future, if I may.”

“How dull of you, Quinn. But of course I will take your feelings into account.”

“That's as good as it gets, Quinn. You might as well take it,” Lyorek said acidly. 

“Regardless,” Nox said firmly, silencing any further comment from the Zabrak Inquisitor's corner of the room, “fortune doesn't favor the timid, Major. Stop waiting for her to come to you. Go to her. Remind her of her feelings for you. Bring her something that awakens the memory of her relationship with you during the good times.” Lifting her glass, Nox stared into it, realizing that it was empty. “Barkeep, more wine!” A different droid came this time, and it was carrying a bottle as well as a fresh wine glass for the Inquisitor. It set the bottle on the table, and she smiled at Quinn like a well-fed nexu, all teeth and bad intentions. “Something like this, for instance.”

Confused, Quinn leaned forward, picking up the bottle. A surprised look came across his face, eyes widening as he read the label. “How did... this is Chandrilan wine. How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” Nox gave him the most innocent look, the nexu-smile widening slightly. “It's just a nice, expensive bottle of wine, suitable for celebrating a beautiful occasion. All kinds of occasions.”

“Yes,” Quinn agreed softly, “like.. our wedding. I gave her a bottle when we got married. We drank it the first night, in Kaas City, in our penthouse.” Quinn looked at the bottle in his hands, his eyes distant, lost in thought and memories. “She tasted like the wine, her mouth was sweet – and the way she looked at me. No one like her had ever looked at me that way, as if I was the most important person in the world.” He pulled his gaze up from the bottle of wine, catching all three of the force-users watching him attentively. Jaxan looked rapt, and Lyorek looked mildly amused, as he almost always seemed to be. But even Nox looked intrigued, and not bored or irritated for once. “To have someone like her, a Sith of considerable power and influence, look at me like that? It was far more intoxicating than the wine ever could have been.”

“You should tell her what you're telling us, Major Quinn.” Jaxan's words were kind, his dark brown eyes sympathetic. “She remembers those times too. And she should hear that you feel like this, because right now, she may really need to know it. She's just had her heart broken, and not at all privately, either. Everyone in the galaxy knows what happened to her, or if they don't, they soon will. Think of how that feels to someone like her, and what it might mean to her to know that you don't think less of her for being dragged through the mud on the galactic stage by a traitor. Tell her what you've told us.” He smiled, a soft, sad expression, his hand resting on Lyorek's black-clad thigh. “Tell her that you miss what you had together. Perhaps she misses it too.”

Quinn's dark blue eyes met the Jedi's mild brown gaze thoughtfully, and he got to his feet, picking up the bottle of wine. “Thank you for the drink, and the conversation. It has been enlightening. I will think about what you've said. All of you.” He was halfway out the door when he glanced back, his gaze falling on Nox's small, dark-robed form. “And thank you for the wine, Darth Nox. It was an insightful gift.”

Tucking the bottle carefully under his arm as he left the cantina, Quinn wondered how she had gotten the information about the Chandrilan wine. And why she was so invested in encouraging him to get back together with Selirah, because he had no doubt that it wasn't even slightly about her being a romantic. Nox had reasons for everything she did, and he didn't want to find himself being used again to get to his wife the way the Inquisitor had manipulated his reassignment for her own amusement on Iokath.

But it was Jaxan's words that stayed with him as he headed below to his room. _Perhaps she misses it too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intend to diverge from the game storyline, so from here on out, while I may utilize some of the continuing story in game, I will be pursuing a different story explanation and plot for Theron's betrayal. 
> 
> If they happen to be on the same page, it'll be a lucky coincidence. ;)
> 
> Song is The Cure. I can't explain my playlist, honestly, so I'm not going to try.


	93. If I Didn't Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn faces a Zakuulan dragon. It doesn't eat him.
> 
> They both face an inebriated Selirah.
> 
> Nine has a conversation with her contact.
> 
> She also finds Twelve a little annoying.

**Odessen, War Room:**

Steeling his nerves, Quinn hastened his steps so that he could catch up with Arcann as the prince stepped onto the lift. “Are you busy? I was hoping that we could talk.” 

Arcann glanced at him coolly, activating the lift to the upper level of the base. “I am busy, actually. What do you need, Major?” he asked, the question threaded with polite disinterest. The lift began to rise, and he leaned his hip against the instrument panel, folding his arms.

“I wanted to say this straight out to you, so that you wouldn't feel I am going behind your back, or trying in any way to exclude you,” Quinn began. His tone was so earnest; he could hear it as he spoke, but as there was little to be done about it, he just continued on before he lost his courage. “I have held back ever since we were reunited on Iokath out of respect for the fact that it felt necessary, and then she had asked me to give her some time to think about it. But I do not feel that continuing to do so is in her best interest, or mine. I know that you don't like me, Arcann. I think you are aware that the feeling is somewhat mutual. But I'm not willing to be underhanded about my desire to be with Selirah, regardless of my feelings about you personally – that is not who I am.” The lift reached the upper floor, and both of them stood, looking at each other for a long drawn out moment before Arcann moved to leave the lift, beckoning sharply with one hand for Quinn to join him. 

“You want me to say that I am fine with you pursuing more of a relationship with her?” the prince inquired, but something in his tone made it clear that it wasn't exactly a question that he wanted to have answered, so Quinn held his tongue, letting the other man finish. “I think you know that I am not. I wouldn't have wished this situation upon her. Not ever. But Theron's decisions were his own. I can't change them, and for the first time, it's only me and her in that room together. I don't know if I'm ready to find myself starting over with someone that I like even less than I did Theron. All of this is to exclude her own feelings on the matter, which I can't begin to guess at right now.” Arcann headed into the open door of the base section on this level, passing through towards the cantina with a purposeful stride that Quinn kept pace with. “If you are looking for my blessing for you to pursue Selirah, then you are going to come up wanting, Major.”

Quinn exhaled softly, not at all surprised at the resistance. “I expected as much. I would feel the same way, in your position. And did at times, when we were together and she would not come home some nights.”

Arcann slowed, and stopped, turning slightly to face him. Instead of anger, which Quinn had anticipated, his pale blue eyes were thoughtful, even curious. “Why did you stay, if you knew she was straying from you that way?”

“The simple answer is of course that she is Sith. In the Empire, that fact is enough of a reason to look the other way, because it is often the wisest and safest course of action to take when you are not -also- Sith.” Quinn's lips lifted slightly; not quite a smile, but amused nevertheless. “The reality is more complicated. But I think you know that just as well as I do.” He shrugged, gloved hands tucked behind his back comfortably. “I loved her. And despite the things she did sometimes, I knew that she loved me. She never was interested in keeping any of the men she slept with in those days. Attraction was momentary, transient. Her passion would run its course, and then she was finished with them. Your situation with her is.. different, though. She fell in love with you and would not give you up, even for Theron's sake.”

“It could be fairly argued that she is not ready to give you up, either. I -have- noticed that.” Arcann's observation was dry, devoid of humor. But there was a gleam of interest in his gaze as he looked at Quinn, and it wasn't difficult to see him thinking about what he'd been told. “I do understand what you're saying about it being.. complicated. And there has been at least one outside indiscretion that I am aware of, though I did not tell Theron about it. It would only have upset him, and she did not see fit to tell me with whom it occurred anyway, though I know now.” 

“And you let it go? Why?”

“It wasn't important. She said that she didn't love him, and so I did not feel particularly threatened by it. We were apart at the time, on different planets, and I suppose it just did not matter to me.” It was Arcann's turn to shrug, and his expression shifted, remembering the conversation he'd had with Selirah after her trip to Nar Shaddaa. “She was poisoned in the spaceport on the way home from that trip, and nearly died. I could not bring myself to even pretend that it mattered to me as much as her survival did. It also was when I realized that I did not dislike Theron as much as I'd believed that I did, so I suppose I understood a little bit more of how her mind works than I had before. But you.. she loves you. And she has so much history and so many memories with you.”

Quinn didn't bother to refute the statement. “Yes. But she loves you enough to keep me at arm's length, and while it may not last, and I flatter myself to think that she is as drawn to me as I am to her – I would prefer to be straightforward with you regarding my intention, Arcann. I may not be friends with you, as you were with Theron. I am not like Theron in most of the ways that matter, and too much like him in the one flaw that I am ashamed to share. I know that I don't have any of his easy charm with others, and I never will. But for her, there is nothing that I would not do, and if Selirah told me that she had no desire to be with me ever again, I would respect it and serve her faithfully to the end of my days as nothing but a loyal officer. She hasn't said that to me, however, and I have waited long enough without acting. I have no intention to take your place, Arcann, or push you out of her affections. I don't think that I could do that, even if I tried. But I love her too much to not at least try to regain my relationship with her. Are you going to stand in my way?”

Arcann's expression was unreadable, and despite having said his piece, Quinn felt agonized by the prince's cool silence. He made that sharp, imperious beckoning motion again, heading deeper into the cantina, and one of Koth's crew waved a hand, pointing towards one of the private back rooms. They passed together into the darkened room, the lights lining the walls set to a low, gentle illumination. There were bottles on the table, several of them, and one was overturned, spinning very slowly as if it'd been knocked over in the last minute or two before they'd arrived. A shattered glass lay in prismatic splendor at the base of the far wall, reflecting the light from a myriad of fractured edges. Selirah lay on the couch, her back to the door, face towards the cushioned back of the furniture and her lekku limply trailing over the edge towards the floor. 

“I must be very, very drunk,” she said in a carefully enunciated manner that illustrated clearly to Quinn exactly how inebriated she was, “since they've sent you to collect me, keella.”

Arcann pushed the bottles out of the way, settling down on the edge of the table so he could face her, even though her back was still all that he could see. “I knew I needed to come to you before they told me, love,” he told her gently, his low voice a soothing rumble. “I could feel your sadness calling out to me, pulling me to you. Talk to me?” Pale blue eyes sought out Quinn, who sat down near her booted feet, his hands folded in his lap to prevent himself from reaching out to her. “To us,” he amended unexpectedly, and Quinn gave him a startled glance. 

“Theron?” She twisted upright with an abrupt jerk of motion, and then put a hand to her mouth, closing her eyes as nausea spun through her head at the change of position. Tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm the hammering of her heart that had accompanied Arcann's last words. “No. Quinn. I'm sorry. I.. I knew it wasn't..” The words choked off miserably, and Quinn saw Arcann's face reflecting the grief and pain in Selirah's as if he was feeling everything that she did, and then he realized that was probably exactly the case. Her violet eyes fixed on a point between the two of them, and he saw her set her shoulders, straightening with determination. “I don't know what I was thinking. I've had too much to drink, that's all.”

“Don't apologize. It's understandable, and we're not going to think less of you for hoping that he would rethink what he's done.” Quinn let his hand rest on her booted foot, and her head turned at the touch, the violet eyes drunkenly bloodshot, brilliant with the unshed tears that she was trying very hard to pretend didn't exist. He watched her blinking carefully, attempting to keep them from spilling over, and he lifted his hand off her boot, offering it to her, and she took it immediately. 

Her head sagged back against the sofa, and Selirah closed her eyes, ignoring the tears that escaped the corners. “Everyone else does. I can feel it. I hear the whispers, everywhere I go. Everyone knows what he did. They all know that I didn't know, that I was caught completely unaware. How could I have been so blind? He seemed tired, and distant, but.. there was nothing, no real sign. I know I would have seen it. He made me look like a fool, Malavai, and he said he'd been planning it for so long.. since Valkorian's defeat. Planning our downfall, my downfall, for all of that time. I never knew him at all.” 

Arcann leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rested his hands on her knee where it curved towards him. “You did know him, we all did. But there was a side of him that he hid from us all. He tricked us all, Seli. That doesn't make you a fool, and the people in the Alliance know that. They trust in you and they know that you would fight to protect your people. Even if it is against him.” Her free hand came to rest over his, fingers curving lightly, tucking under his palm. “You won't have to face this alone.”

Opening her eyes again, Selirah blinked blearily at both of them, one after the other. “Why are you here together?” she asked suspiciously. “I should have asked that before.”

Quinn shot a hopeful glance at Arcann, but the prince merely smiled challengingly at him, a mocking gleam in the sky-blue eyes. Obviously it was going to be his job to explain. “I suppose that is my doing. I wanted to speak to Arcann about a matter of some urgency, but he was on his way here to get you, and graciously allowed me to accompany him,” he offered, hoping she was too drunk to question the motive any further than that simple explanation. 

“What matter was that?”

This time, he spared the time for a sour look at the still clearly amused Arcann, who was perfectly content to let him face her questions without assistance. “Perhaps it would be better discussed at another time. When you are.. feeling more like yourself.”

Her attention switched abruptly to Arcann, and the self-satisfied smile he was wearing slipped off his face with gratifying haste. “One of you is going to tell me. Let's see if you are willing to refuse me too, keella.”

“I wasn't refusing..” Quinn protested, but she pulled her hand from his, holding it up in a silencing gesture. 

“I am waiting, Arcann.” Her cold tone was almost threatening, but it was ruined completely by the soft, drunken hiccup that punctuated the sentence.

“He wanted to talk to me about you,” Arcann said calmly, and Quinn cursed the other man silently, wondering if this was going to be his answer; sabotaging him directly to her. “More specifically, about how I would feel if he pursued a path of mending his relationship with you.”

Selirah's eyelids lowered over her eyes, lashes dropping like a veil, and for a second, it looked as if she'd simply fall asleep right there in the middle of the conversation. Quinn found himself hoping for exactly that, even if the odds were very slim that it'd mean she'd forget what they had been discussing. Yet again, luck wasn't on his side, and she blinked, her violet eyes snapping open again. The hiccup that came this time was muffled by a determinedly tight jaw, but she was undeterred, pushing on gamely. “What did you say? Never mind, keella. I know what you said. No.” She laughed, and pulled the hand in Arcann's free as well, fishing through the empty bottles, looking for one with some liquid left in it. 

Arcann pushed the bottles aside, out of her reach, ignoring her offended frown. “I don't think it's unreasonable of me to not be enthusiastic about the idea, love. And I had no idea what you thought about it, either, which was a factor. Especially right now. But I hadn't answered yet when we arrived here.”

“Why not?” Laying back against the couch, Selirah stretched out slowly, one leg hanging off the cushions. Her eyes left Arcann's face, moving to Quinn's. “Thinking of new and creative ways to say no?” Her own expression was difficult to read, and Quinn wasn't certain if that was due to the amount of alcohol she'd consumed, or that she hadn't decided which side she was on in this discussion. 

“No suffices to convey refusal, Seli. But I do care what you think. Is it something that you want?” Arcann folded his arms, one atop the other, elbows still braced on his knees. 

“This situation.. this thing with Theron. It's still very.. new.” Her eyes didn't leave Quinn's face, and he felt a twinge of concern that she was looking for something in his face, some sign, some hint, that perhaps he wasn't giving her. “I know how you feel, Malavai, and I know that I have been less than clear about my own feelings beyond the obvious. More time isn't going to show me anything new. I have to learn to accept that Theron is gone, because he is. We'll find him, but when we do..”

Quinn's jaw tightened angrily at the thought, and he interjected, “Don't think about that, right now. There's no reason for it. It's a problem for another day, and you don't need to stand on the 'Commander of the Alliance forces' pedestal with me, or with Arcann. You care about Theron, and he's done something unforgivable. The two things aren't mutually exclusive.” Selirah smiled, looking relieved, but Quinn and Arcann exchanged a glance as she closed her eyes again, laying her head back against a cushion. There was an understanding in the look they shared – a knowledge that neither of them intended to let Theron get away with what he'd done, and that differences could be put aside to achieve that goal. “Selirah, I didn't intend to bring this to you today, and I still don't intend to push. I only wanted to clear the air with Arcann.”

“I may not like your intentions, Quinn, but..” Arcann broke in, and then stopped, and regarded the other man silently for a moment. “I respect your choice to talk to me. Very reluctantly.” A faint smile curved his lips, the scarred side tugging upwards more stiffly. “And I believe that you want to keep her safe as much as I do. If she wants to be with you, then we'll revisit it. However, that will be a question for another time. She's asleep,” he finished dryly. 

Quinn smiled despite himself, a glimmer of hope coming to life. He rose to his feet as Arcann did, and the prince bent to lift Selirah's limp, sleeping form, hefting her easily. Her head lolled trustingly against his shoulder, and she hiccuped serenely. “Do you want any assistance?”

“No.. I'll take her to bed. But if you want to talk.. I will come back once she's settled.” The offer was made without inflection, Arcann's deep voice lending it a calm gravitas. “I think perhaps we have something in common to discuss after all.” 

That was certainly true. “I'll wait, then. And order some fresh drinks and let them clean up the room,” Quinn added fastidiously, wrinkling his nose slightly at the sharp scent of spilled Dorian Quill on the air.

“An excellent idea. I'll be back soon.” Shifting Selirah to a more comfortable position, Arcann left the room, holding her carefully in his arms.

**Hutt Space, Planet Undisclosed:**

“Nine, your contact's on the line.”

Coming awake with a start, Nine yawned, bare feet hitting the floor a moment later. She padded out into the front room, sliding into the chair next to Twelve. He took the holo call off pause, and turned back to his terminal as the image stabilized into an older man with jovial, friendly features. 

“What a pleasant surprise to hear from you, my friend. It's been awhile,” he announced brightly. “But we needn't have the whole small talk conversation. I've seen the images.”

“What's your assessment?” 

“You've tracked him?”

“Yes. Though he could have shed it by now, and likely has, given who the target is. We can re-acquire, if necessary.” Nine glanced at Twelve, and though he seemed completely absorbed in his data stream as usual, the younger agent nodded in agreement. “Confirmed.”

The man on the holo frowned consideringly. “Get more information, then. I will join you once you've discovered current whereabouts of the target. I can cover any evidence of your involvement, if necessary. What odds on being able to bring him in?”

Nine's unblinking gaze didn't shift to the side, or give any sign that she was thinking. She simply answered, “Low, without risk. Higher, perhaps, with your assistance, but the risk rises significantly. We won't get the drop on him a second time. Not easily.”

“Agreed. Find him and contact me again. Good luck, my friend.”

The holo went dead, and Nine reached out, ruffling Twelve's brown hair. “Okay, kid, you're on. Fifty credits says you won't find anything.” 

“Make it a hundred, and you're on.” Twelve flashed a quick grin, his enhanced eyes focusing briefly on her before returning to his screen. 

“Greedy, but I admire your spirit. Fine, one hundred credits. Let's find the guy who made an enemy of the Eternal Alliance.”

Twelve pushed a datapad over to her helpfully. “I have a few possible sightings there for you to go through.”

Activating the datapad, Nine scrolled through the files. Or, she started to, and then sighed. “How many is a 'few', Twelve?”

“Eleven thousand, two hundred and nine at last count, from twelve different planets in four different systems, and two moons.”

“Lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, this feels a little short to me, but it was a necessary interlude. And school's started and I have not yet settled into my "Go to bed at four, wake up at six, go back to bed at seven, sleep a few more hours" schedule. ;)
> 
> =============  
> You can chew me out on tumblr for my terrible life choices at: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cavalier-life 
> 
> Asks and messages and mockery are all accepted. I don't post much story stuff there yet. I don't know why. You can chew me out for that too, if you'd like. <3
> 
> But I will blame you publicly if I spend all my writing time talking about cheesy comedy movies with you. *does not look at MelissaGT* *whispers "Let's go see the new Super Troopers together when it comes out, I'll buy the treats."*


	94. Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine and Twelve track down the target on another planet, and prepare to see what's behind Door #1.
> 
> Behind another door, doubts begin to prey on minds.
> 
> Lyorek and Selirah discuss his suddenly predictable romantic life.
> 
> Arcann and Selirah comfort each other.

**Outer Rim, Planet Undisclosed:**

“Why does every planet we land on smell like stale gundark sweat?”

_Maybe it's you._

“Valid point,” Nine conceded, lifting one arm and taking an experimental sniff. She could hear Twelve laugh over the comm, but at least she was sure. “No. Definitely not me. Are you deliberately choosing the smelliest planets you can find?”

 _Not -deliberately-. Let's call it a fairly consistent coincidence._

Liberating one of the speeders sitting outside the gates of the small spaceport, Nine turned it out into the marshland beyond the walls, following the distant directional ping of the locator. “How far?”

_Far. He doesn't want to be found._

Nine snorted audibly. “I wouldn't either. Talk about some brutal ex-girlfriend drama. Turning on the former Wrath turned an Empress with the firepower of the Eternal Fleet at her fingertips? The man has a death wish ten kilometers wide.”

_It does seem like a fairly ignorant decision to make, no matter what the reasoning. And that is interesting._

“Do -not- start coming up with theories. Stick to the job.”

_The job -is- theories._

Twelve's dryly offered point was not an inaccurate one, she had to admit. Nine flexed the balls of her feet on the pedals of the speeder, rocketing it forward over the swampy, mossy ground beneath her. Even the smell didn't seem quite so bad if she went fast enough, so she pushed the speeder to the top limits of its capabilities. Her fingers tensed and relaxed, making minute shifts to the trajectory of the bike, evading tree branches and low bushes easily. “This is connected to the previous job, but since we weren't there for intel, it's almost impossible to accurately conjecture what that connection is. Let's assume that he was meeting with his new allies, though, because it makes the most obvious sense. He's cut off every previous ally he's ever had, except for whomever he was in service to when he turned traitor on his Empress. The Republic would never trust him after he left them for the Alliance, and sided with the Sith Empire against them. He can't have gone back there.”

_That is a logical assumption. But what they were doing there on that little planet? Information exchange, perhaps. Planning? There has to be a plan. He would not have defected without some idea of retaliation or attack. Searching information on the target._

“Don't trigger any alarms. I'd like to get in and out as cleanly as possible.”

_Insulting me isn't going to increase those odds._

“You're so sensitive.”

_And brilliant, and clever, and skilled, and talented..._

“And annoying, and chatty, and..”

_Ping is ahead. Check your stealth generator before you leave the speeder behind._

“I have done this before, you know.”

_Be careful._

Nine smiled, her tone softening. “I will be.” Pulling the speeder aside into some incredibly awful smelling underbrush about a kilometer away from the target site, she checked her gear and weapons methodically. There was never a reason to rush an equipment check, no matter how urgent the mission, and this was no exception. Twelve's worries aside, Nine had learned that equipment failure caused the death of plenty of agents. And having outlived the usual lifespan of a Cipher agent quite considerably, she had no desire to break the streak of survival today. She twisted her braids back into a knot, binding it into a tail with an elastic and then twisting the tail into a circle, tucking the ends tightly into the elastic to keep them confined. Low light goggles with vision enhancement went on next, hanging around her neck over the soft, flexible, high-necked armor suiting that covered her from nearly chin to ankle. Everything was a dark smoke grey, mottled with darker and lighter patches that helped keep her concealed even when her generator was offline. The mottling continued onto her soft, low boots, and as Nine pulled her hood over her head, she spoke quietly to Twelve. “Heading in. One kilometer to site.”

_Monitoring._

**Prison Complex, Location Unknown:**

Footsteps echoed down the long corridor, loud and rhythmic. Every half an hour, never a moment late. The cells were quiet, nearly silent, but once in a while, the eerie stillness would be broken by a cry, or a sob of pain. 

Cell one was dark, windowless. It smelled stale and coppery, and the occupant lay on his side, shackled heavily with low-tech heavy metal manacles on ankles and wrists. His face was bruised with a constellation of colors, from the nearly healed sickly yellow, to the fresh raw black and blue of new contusions. Two fingers were broken and hadn't been set. He could barely move the hand, now, and he couldn't close his fingers at all thanks to the swelling. He'd tried to keep track of the time, at first. But after the first week, he'd forgotten how many days had passed. He only remembered the sessions in the room at the end of the hall. Brutal, violent, cruel sessions filled with endless questions. 

He'd been cocky for the first few days, anticipating rescue. They'd beaten that out of him quickly. He'd held on to his ability to refuse to answer them entirely for another few days. But they'd beaten that out of him too. No, that wasn't entirely true. It was more than just beatings. There was also the drugs, and the shocks, and the restricted food. The vicious tinkering they'd done with his implants, shorting them, then re-configuring the functions so that they caused him pain, or nausea, or brief periods of utter blindness or unconsciousness. The cold, the bed that was sometimes in the room, and sometimes not. The sleep deprivation, and the pain, the constant pain. At times, instead, they would offer him pain medications. Anti-fever treatments. Blankets. Food. Clean water to wash. It was impossible to anticipate what they'd do next, what torture or gift he would receive. All he had to do was answer their questions, they told him. Just give them the answers they sought.

He still refused more often than he answered. But they always made him pay for it dearly.

When he was alone, he thought about home. About comforts. His bed. The clean sheets. The 'fresher just off the bedroom. His workstation. Food. He thought about his family; though it brought him no comfort to do so. He thought about his friends, and wondered where they were, and why they hadn't broken down the doors, blown up the walls, pulled him out of here and left the place a smoking ruin. 

And though he tried not to, he thought about her. They asked about her often in his sessions. Details. Stories about her exploits. Personal experiences. Their relationship. It was so invasive, so extensive, and so many of the questions seemed minor, or unimportant. He didn't understand why they even wanted to know what her favorite foods were, or what color she wore the most, or how she liked to sleep. But most of all, he hated the way they asked where she was. Why she hadn't come for him. Because he wondered that too, more and more as the time dragged on. 

_You know she's not going to abandon you, or leave you. She would move entire planets to find you._

And yet, day after day, he sat in this cell – chained, bruised, bleeding, and alone. Why hadn't she come for him? Was she tired of saving him? Was she tired of him? She'd always told him that she would come for him no matter what, that she loved him and never wanted to lose him. When he let himself think about her too much, the doubts began to tear at his mind, burying him in self-hatred, shame, loathing, and guilt. What if they were going to harm her with what he'd told them? He'd fought them, tried not to tell them anything vital. But they just kept asking questions, wearing him down, exhausting him, starving him. He knew that eventually he would break, and knew that's what they were waiting for; his breaking point. Where was she?

No. She would come. He had to believe that. She had always come for him. She would come. She was looking for him.

She would come.

The footsteps stopped at his door, and he cringed automatically back against the wall as the guard came for him, dragging him roughly to his feet. He knew he had to keep his courage up, and only give them useless information, pointless details that wouldn't give them a way to attack or harm her.

He could hold out until she came for him. 

**Odessen, Training Field:**

Selirah and Lyorek sat on the walkway to the base, legs dangling down into the emptiness below, arms propped up on the railing, watching Arcann and Jaxan out on the field. The Jedi was backpedaling hastily in the face of an aggressive assault, but despite the fact that he had the younger man completely on the defensive, it was evident to both of the onlookers that Arcann also couldn't get through Jaxan's uninspired but indefatigable protective stance. He drove Jaxan back again and again, trying to draw the Jedi out into an attack, and Selirah chuckled softly, elbowing Lyorek. 

“He's so frustrated. Your Jedi is wearing him down. Clever.” 

“I can't tell if it's intentional or accidental,” Lyorek answered, smirking. “He might just be trying to avoid getting an arm chopped off.” Red-gold eyes widened, and the Inquisitor hastily added, “Not that there's anything wrong with missing an arm.”

Selirah bit her lip, a choked snort escaping despite her efforts. “You're lucky he didn't hear that. So how -is- your little friend settling in here? Nox seems to dislike him slightly less than everyone else, and that's impressive enough. But Quinn has spoken well of him too, and that's nearly unbelievable.”

Lyorek made a face, his nose crinkling comically. “Why does everyone refer to him as mine? He chose to come here to follow -you-, O Illustrious Empress, not me. He's not -mine-.”

“Please. He followed you home to our Iokath base like an orphaned tuk'ata pup. He follows you everywhere, and I am not the only one who has noticed that you don't seem to mind. Are you off the market, Lyo?” Her smile, small as it was, still felt like a victory to Lyorek, and so he bit back the sarcastic comment he wanted to make. Seeing even a glimpse of the old Selirah was so rare since Theron had left; it had started to feel like she would never be herself again rather than the new, somber, desolate version of herself that had taken her place.

“For you, Empress? Never. Shall I inform Arcann that I'm taking his place tonight?” Lyorek gave her a sly look. “Or perhaps he'd be willing to stay so I can cross both of the top entries off my incomplete To Do list?”

She gave a startled laugh, shoving his shoulder with one hand. “I don't doubt that you actually -have- a list of people you haven't done yet, but it can't be a very long one. I hope you had Quinn disinfect you thoroughly before you started taking that poor innocent Jedi to bed.”

“Don't worry, I took a shower that very morning, and even used soap.”

“Right after hopping out of bed with one of my people, I'm sure.”

“One?”

“Lyo!” Selirah laughed again, shaking her head in amusement. She was silent for a few moments, watching Arcann and Jaxan on the field. The Jedi had managed to drive the prince back a short distance, but he'd lost the high ground in the process and immediately had his advantage neatly plucked from him. When she spoke again, her tone was far more quiet and thoughtful, curious. “Do you like him, Lyo? Jaxan, I mean. Is he happy here with us?” 

The Zabrak stretched his arms out over the bar of the railing, lacing his long, elegant fingers together. “He seems happy,” he began reluctantly. “He's settled in well, and everyone likes him. It's impossible not to like him, I think. He's so kind to everyone, even me. He's never said a thing about all the gossip about me, and I know that he's heard it. Jax always looks at me the same way. Like there's nothing that I could do that would make him view me differently. I know that's not true... I know he'll see all of me at some point, and it'll be more than he can handle.”

“Lyo.. you don't know that. I know he's a Jedi, and there will be things you don't agree on, or things that you do that he would not. But...” Selirah faltered, and he saw her gaze go inward, her violet eyes losing focus. “Maybe he will understand that you're not like him. Maybe he won't care about how different you are from each other.” _Maybe he won't leave you, turn on you, betray you the way Theron did to me._ She didn't say the words, but he could see the sudden change in her features, the way her body stilled. Her pain was breathtakingly transparent, written all over her face, and in the grief-stricken darkness in her amethyst eyes. Then she took a slow breath, and everything revealing disappeared, her face a mask of amused, distant humor. “Maybe you can turn him.” 

“You've met him,” Lyorek said with a quick, easy smile, willingly pretending he'd seen nothing, knowing she would not want him to try to comfort her the way that she would tolerate it from Arcann, or from Quinn, perhaps. Now, there was something he'd dearly love to pry about, because he'd seen Quinn and Arcann having drinks together, talking in low voices. It was the most suspicious pairing imaginable – everyone knew that they disliked each other. He'd even considered trying to spy on them, but discounted it in the end as far too risky to his all-important personal safety. But he knew that he couldn't ask her about that, either.. she hadn't been there, and Arcann and Quinn were unlikely to tell him anything. “He's practically a literal walking ray of sunshine. I could drop that boy in a puddle of liquefied bantha crap and somehow he'd come out clean. There's very little dark about him, only enough to make him... so very tempting to me.” He hadn't meant to say that. He couldn't even begin to imagine where the thought had come from.

“Who could have imagined it'd take a Jedi to hold your interest? No wonder you made an Imperial sport of bed hopping for all of these years... you hadn't met enough Jedi that were alive after the fact so they could be seduced,” Selirah answered softly, but he could see the liquid brightness of her eyes, and knew that despite her appearance of control, she was struggling to maintain it. “Lyo, you should take your time. Get to know him. Make sure. Just be careful who you trust and don't rush into anything.”

“Jax isn't...” the Zabrak began to protest, but then he smiled at her instead. “I will be careful, Selirah.”

She turned away from him, getting to her feet. Arcann was coming up the stairs two at a time, with Jaxan trailing just behind him, and Lyorek could see the naked relief on the Twi'lek's face as the prince joined them, his left hand coming to rest supportively at the small of her back. Selirah leaned against his side lightly, and Arcann bent to kiss her in greeting, his icy blue eyes softening as he looked down at her. 

“How did I do, Lyo?” Jaxan's sunny smile was suddenly before him, and Lyorek shook his head, bemused at the Jedi's hopeful brown eyes. 

“I think you annoyed Arcann quite effectively, so that's a positive.” Lyorek glanced slyly at Arcann, and the prince rolled his eyes in response. “It does look like you could use some work in your offensive forms, Jax, just from what we were seeing from up here. It might take a long time to kill an opponent if you're just counting on making him die of boredom or old age while he chases you everywhere.” He slung an arm around the Jedi's robed shoulders, giving him a companionable grin. “I'm afraid you might have to actually use that saber to attack. Just a suggestion.”

“I'm not dead, am I?” Jaxan pointed out archly. “I think my method worked just fine, didn't it, Arcann?”

“I considered killing you a couple of times, just so I didn't have to keep chasing you.” The prince's answer was solemnly given, and Jaxan gave him a big-eyed, shocked stare until Arcann smiled and he realized he was being teased yet again. 

“Alright, I get it. Less defense, more offense. Aren't you going to spar with me sometime, Lyorek?” Jaxan asked hopefully, his meltingly dark gaze fixed on the Zabrak's face. “Or Darth Nox? She said that she might be willing to come test my combat skills.”

Alarm flashed in Lyorek's eyes. “No, that's not a great idea. For so many reasons. But mostly that you're not ready to spar her, yet. Nox doesn't make a practice of teaching, and she can be somewhat.. aggressive in spars. I'd rather not have her chop off any of your...” Catching himself a moment too late to conceal his meaning, the Inquisitor caught the sour look on Selirah's face, and the studiously bland one on Arcann's. “Never mind. We'll just be on our way.” He seized Jax's arm and towed the blonde Jedi after him, heading into the base. 

Arcann felt Selirah sag against his side, drawing a shuddering breath, and she moved to rest her hands on the top of the railing, her eyes closed. “Talk to me, love,” he told her quietly, moving behind her, wrapping his arms gently around her waist. “I hate to feel you like this and know that I'm helpless to change it or fix it.”

“I told Lyorek to be careful. Of Jaxan.” Selirah sighed, leaning back against his broad chest, resting her head there and closing her eyes, relaxing into the circle of his arms. “I wish that I didn't feel this way, Ar'eswo, as if everyone was to be mistrusted. When is that going to stop? When will I stop looking at people, my own people, waiting for them to plant a blade in my back?”

Arcann laid his cheek against the top of her head, the warmth of her body pleasant against his damaged skin. “I wish I could tell you that it is going to get better soon, but I don't think any of us will feel very easy until we know where he is, and what he's been doing or what his plans are. He betrayed us all, but you and I, it was the hardest for us. He shared every part of our lives, and I know how much he means to you.” His right hand interlaced with the cybernetic fingers of the left, resting over her stomach, holding her back against him. “How could you not feel like everyone is suspect, when the person you trusted the most let you down? That's a reasonable fear to have.”

“Do you think he was right? About the Alliance? About me?”

“No,” he told her firmly. “I don't. Absolutely not about you. I don't even understand why he would say that about you, after everything you've done and sacrificed. He knows it's not true, love. And so do you. Don't let him make you doubt yourself, or the things we've done since my father's death. You deserve your throne. And the Alliance is young – there will be challenges to face, and difficulties to overcome. It was never going to be a smooth path to peace, if that is even possible. But we were trying to achieve it, and now he's fractured all the work that was done, thanks to his disloyalty. That is on -him-, Selirah. Not you. He's jeopardized everything.” 

“I hope you're right, keella, because it's hard not to think the blame is mine. I must have done something to alienate him like that, to make him do this.”

“Don't do that, love. You can't think like that. It's only going to make things worse, and you know deep down that you didn't make him turn on us all. That's Theron's burden to bear, not yours. Stop excusing him. He doesn't deserve your love, not now.”

“Alright. I'll try,” she capitulated, her shoulders slumping dispiritedly.

Arcann felt her hands come down to cover his, needing the tactile comfort from his touch. He let her take his hands, their fingers interlacing comfortably. Her grip was tight, and he could feel her pain and resignation in their bond, the sadness that was a never-ending companion for both of them. As angry as he was, as much as he resented Theron for what he'd done; he could never completely erase the knowledge that he missed the other man's company, his humor, his affection. Even knowing that it had to have been faked, falsified.. he still missed Theron sometimes and couldn't quite eradicate the emotions, not entirely.

That was the thing he hated the most, because Theron was the enemy, now. Selirah would never be able to bring herself to kill him when they found him, so he needed to get past those lingering feelings for her. He needed to let go of the idea that Theron had ever really cared for either of them.

He was not going to let Theron have another opportunity to hurt her, or the Alliance she'd held together with her blood and sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twi'leki/Ryl Notes:
> 
> Eswo - Twi'lek term of endearment meaning 'beloved', gains meaning when paired with a name.
> 
> Song is by Fuel.
> 
> _Drag this frown from my face,  
>  Force a smile to take its place.  
> I can pretend that I'm not confused,  
> And I don't need the likes of you._
> 
> _Fall in, fall out,  
>  Break free, break down.  
> One look and I die.  
> One kiss, goodbye._


	95. All I Have, All I Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah's bad dreams help Arcann make a big decision.
> 
> Nine infiltrates a workshop and gets some more information.

_BLINDED BY DUTY. DISTRACTED BY TRUST. YOU DID NOT SEE THE BLADE TO YOUR NECK._

_THE RAGE IN YOUR SHADOW. THE TRAITOR._

_YOU ARE BETRAYED._

_“I just want you to know that I loved you from the moment I saw you. And I always will.”_

_“You're going to look great sitting on that throne.”_

_"This one hits close to home. Traitors willing to sacrifice innocent civilians and blame it on someone else to start a war are the lowest of the low. Makes me sick. I used to think the Republic was better than the Sith, but those days are long gone. Guess that's why I'm with the Alliance now."_

_Rolling over, Selirah braced herself over Theron's sleeping form in their bed, remembering the words he said to her after they'd fought to put down an uprising together, months ago. She looked down at the beloved face, his lashes a dark fan against his skin, chestnut hair sleep-tousled. Her fingers traced his mouth, and his lips twitched upwards in his sleep, smiling beautifully. Her heart clenched, love swelling painfully in her chest._

_“I'd do anything to protect you.”_

_“Don't worry. You won't feel a thing.”_

_Theron's hazel eyes opened to meet her gaze, and his hand rose. Selirah started to smile, expecting him to pull her closer, to kiss her. Instead, she felt a razor-sharp blade punch through her skin and slide into her chest, rammed through her ribs, the tip reaching for her heart. She choked on a cry of agony, feeling blood fill her chest, her throat, tasting it on her tongue and lips. Her eyes filled with tears of pain and shock, and she saw Theron's smile widen as he watched her grasp helplessly at his hand on the knife, trying to pull it out of her heart. His hand twisted the blade, fingers covered in her blood, and she screamed, feeling her heart seize, give a last desperate beat in her chest, then burst._

“No!” 

Arcann jerked awake at her shout, her terror ripping through his mind. He reached out to touch her, but Selirah flung herself back away from his hand desperately, her eyes wide, pupils dilated hugely. One crimson-skinned hand snapped up, and he could feel the pressure of the force barrier she had defensively raised in front of where she sat, huddled pitifully in the corner of the bed. After a moment, her eyes focused on him, recognizing him, and her hands lowered slowly while dropping the protective shield at the same moment. Selirah's hands patted carefully over her chest, her stomach, checking as if she expected something to be there, and then she crumpled down into a huddled mass with a choked sob. “I saw him. Our Theron. He was sleeping next to us, like always, and he woke up and he stabbed me. I felt myself dying and he smiled at me, keella,” she whispered. “He killed me.”

“Seli. Breathe. It was just a dream. You're not hurt.” Arcann touched her shoulder, hesitantly, waiting to see if she would accept it. She didn't throw his hand off, and he came to her slowly, on his knees on the bed. Lifting her into his arms, he sat back against the headboard, dragging the extra pillows over and stuffing them behind his back. Selirah lay against him limply, her body tense and her breathing ragged. “It was a dream. You're safe, love. I'm here.” 

Her dreams, he knew, were often terrible despite her assertion that nothing bothered her. She'd always tried to hide the nightmares from both of them, but he could feel it every time she startled awake, and sometimes even see some of what she was dreaming. It had always made him feel ashamed when Selirah had dreamed of being trapped and poisoned in the carbonite, or their brutal fight on Asylum, but she'd never spoken to him of the dreams and he knew she thought only of protecting him from his guilt. Getting her to talk about things that she saw as weakness was a very delicate thing, and some part of him had always known that she felt uncomfortable letting them think that there was anything she could not handle.

Selirah's emotions were a seething, confusing mass, tangled and difficult to decipher. Her arms twined around his shoulders, and she buried her face in against his neck, her eyes closed tightly. Arcann let himself sink more fully into their bond, opening himself to her, letting himself sense her painful morass of guilt, humiliation, and sadness. Beneath it all, deeply hidden but still detectable, he could feel a knot of fear and desperation. All he could feel himself was a bone-deep, uncompromising rage and desire for revenge. He wished they'd find a trail to the traitorous Theron soon, if only so he'd be that much closer to choking the life out of him and permanently ending this threat for Selirah's sake. 

What she needed now, though – was a distraction. Something that could keep her mind off her perceived failures with Theron, and his betrayal. And he had just the right one in mind, after his talk with Quinn the other night.

“You should take a day for yourself, Seli. Do something enjoyable. Take the Fury out. Or go hiking. Go for a swim. Watch some holovids. Read. Nap. I'll handle everything tomorrow. I can step in on the meetings with Lana, and take care of the intel and reports. No one will trouble you for anything. Take Quinn with you, though... I'll feel better if you have someone with you, and he will protect you with his life.”

She twisted slightly to look up at him, and Arcann smiled reluctantly at the incredulous expression on her face as it edged out the misery that had been there moments before. “You -want- me to spend time with Quinn? Am I still asleep, because I feel like I have to be. Have you perhaps contracted a fatal disease, keella? Two days to live?”

“I want you to have someone with you that I know would die himself before he lets harm come to you. So take Quinn with you. Enjoy yourself. Forget everything that is troubling you for a few hours. I want to see the smile that I love more often, and I know you need to get away from all these responsibilities sometimes. It is a lot to ask of anyone to deal with this day in and day out without a rest.” Arcann kissed her, a lingering, gentle kiss. “You trust him, and I trust that he would never want to face me if he failed to protect you. Major Quinn and I have a better understanding of each other, as well. It's only one day, Seli. It will be fine.”

He saw the last of the panic from her nightmare leave her amethyst eyes as he spoke, and Selirah's body relaxed in his arms, her fingers tracing slowly over the back of his neck. “Alright, if you're certain. Are you sure you want to take care of everything tomorrow? It's a very full day.” 

Arcann smiled, his shoulder lifting and falling in a lazy shrug beneath her cheek. “I'll handle it, love. A day full of tedious administration is hardly the worst thing I could be doing, and it gives you a chance to relax while we're exploring leads. It will be good for you.” His cybernetic fingers cupped her cheek, tracing the lines of her tattoos where they demarcated her jaw and chin, the sharp designs oddly beautiful to him. That Selirah even allowed herself to be vulnerable with him at all, let him see her without her defenses – he knew what a sign of trust that was for her. She did not often speak of her history, or her upbringing, but Arcann knew that she had not had much kindness either as an alien in the Empire, or as a Sith acolyte. It was a harsh, painful background that they shared in their own ways – one of cruelty and fear, and he knew well that there were scars under those tattoos with stories that she would never tell him, or anyone else. Her strength was formidable and he admired her for it, but these quiet, private moments were his favorite, when she let him hold her, or when they spent an evening talking together, late into the night. 

Stepping aside to allow Quinn the opportunity of time with her that he desired would cost Arcann nothing in this instance. It could be soothing to her to feel free to enjoy the Major's companionship again without a fear that it would cost her relationship with him, and that was something he thought that he could try to give her. Having her wake up screaming every few nights was agonizing for them both, and giving her something that might blunt the pain of Theron's loss could make a difference; it could help her start to let go of him. It made sense, logically. But Arcann knew that logic wasn't always going to win out. This plan could backfire on him in more than one way. For the time being, though, he was prepared to give Quinn what he asked and Selirah the freedom to do as she chose, and simply see what came of it, if anything.

Arcann slowly realized that she was dozing against him, curled up on his lap, and the prince shifted her a little, settling her more comfortably and pulling the blanket up around them both. It was a risk, letting them reconnect when he'd just gotten everything he wanted. But he had discovered something interesting in himself after speaking to Quinn in the cantina – that he wanted to see her recovering from the wound that Theron had dealt more than he wanted to keep her entirely to himself. It was time to stop trying to hold on so tightly out of fear, so he would try to open his hand instead and see if she would stay in it of her own accord.

It was worth the risk to him, he realized, because loving her and watching her suffer like this was too hard for him to bear.

**Outer Rim, Planet Undisclosed:**

Nine made her way through the main floor of the structure, her soft boots nearly silent on the ground. Droids were at a variety of workstations, row upon row of tables filling the cavernous space. She had set her comm device to recording visual from the moment she'd entered the building, and made sure to come as close as she dared to the tables, trying to get images of as many of the bizarre creations and the schematics displayed on the view screens as she possibly could. Assassin droids patrolled walkways above, carrying blaster rifles and sniper rifles in their metallic hands. 

Toggling on the core temperature cooling filaments impregnated into the fabric of her light armor, Nine set her temperature several degrees below normal. With luck, it would be enough to defend against or confuse any system set to detect a typical range of humanoid body temperatures. Moving carefully through the room, the agent made her way to the back of the warehouse-sized space, to the lift located there. It was automatic, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn't have to give away her presence by manually activating it. The platform began to descend almost as soon as she'd stepped onto it, and Nine could feel her stomach drop slightly in response to the speed, though she steeled herself against the faint sensation of nausea as it washed over her.

She loosened her vibroblade in its sheath as the platform reached the bottom of the shaft, stepping carefully out into darkness. Activating her goggles, Nine lifted them into place, settling the strap around her head, under the loose knot of her braided hair. A hallway stretched ahead of her with tiny intermittent sconces set into the stone walls. They didn't activate as she walked past them, so she assumed they were motion activated; as long as her generator held out, she could remain undetected, but she was not unaware of the fragility of that protection. The hallway was mostly empty even of doorways, broken only once by a deepset, locked door. Wishing that she dared risk a question of Twelve, she left the door alone, not wishing to trigger any alarms unless she had no recourse. Another door loomed at the end of the hallway, but this one stood open. Inside, the room was dimly lit, so she shut off the night vision setting, activating low light instead as she slid silently into the room. A conference table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs. Folders with sheets of plas tucked inside lay on the surface, but the room was occupied, so Nine touched nothing, lowering herself to a crouch and sidling beneath the tabletop edge.

“.. changes nothing,” the man seated at the terminal was saying. A holo call was open, but it was set to private so there was no face to be seen on the other end, only a garbled voice that sounded potentially, if vaguely, male. “I was only winged by the bullet, and I don't think it was intended for me. Our compatriot is dead, and I suspect that his activities drew attention at his last posting.”

“It is still a setback. And our guest is proving incredibly stubborn. We need him to crack. He must give us more information, if we are to utilize it in a strike against the Alliance,” the disguised voice answered, frustration evident in the response. “We will move to a more intensive questioning method soon. It had been our intention to keep him alive as long as possible, but that may not be within our power for much longer if he will not give us the intel that we require. His loyalty is.. extreme, and his extensive anti-interrogation training has proven to be a challenge.”

“Have you considered showing him the recordings of what he did?”

“That would be counterproductive at present. He would have no reason to give us the information that we require, if he knows what happened. It is better to keep him in ignorance for the time being.. it distresses him greatly to feel that no one cares about his absence. Now, there is much impatience to see our devices in action. Can you speed up the process at all?”

“There's nothing I can do about that. I'm doing my part. The devices are coming together, but we will not be able to deploy them for a few more weeks. We are waiting for several shipments of the rarer, more valuable components.” The man ran a hand through his hair, the dark brown strands standing up at his crown in a spiky, charmingly disheveled style. Nine knelt beneath the table, her right knee starting to ache dully, leaning forward to balance on one hand so she could see more clearly.

“No one has gotten close yet, I trust? Take every possible precaution. You must not be discovered before we are ready to act.”

“There have been no intrusions, and I will be off-planet tomorrow to the next factory. Everything is under control.” 

“Excellent. Accelerate the timetable on the devices if you can. Our guest is close to breaking.” The holo winked out, and the man at the terminal turned in his seat, massaging the leg Nine had shot on the last planet, during her previous mission. Theron Shan, former SIS agent for the Republic, former consort to the new Empress of the Eternal Alliance. Disavowed traitor. Hunted man. Nine shifted her position carefully, making certain that the recording equipment would get him clearly. He rubbed his temple, fingers carefully working around the edges of his implants. The skin looked irritated, reddened, and she wondered when he'd last had them properly re-calibrated somewhere other than these kriffing backwaters.

Just once, it'd be nice to get to pursue a target on a civilized planet. 

Cautiously edging out from beneath the table, Nine crossed the room, pausing in the doorway to look back at him. Theron had pulled up a recording and paused it on an image of a Lethan Twi'lek woman that the agent could easily recognize as the Alliance's Empress. She was looking directly at the person filming, which Nine assumed had been Theron himself, and smiling. The traitor stood, palms down on the surface of the desk, and stared at the image for several moments with an oddly blank expression on his face before he turned away towards the empty room. Nine slipped out the door rather than risk him catching the shimmer of her stealth generator's field as he crossed to the conference table she'd just been hiding beneath, and she headed away towards the lift as quickly as she dared down the oppressively dark hallway.

Twelve would have gone through her surveillance feed and the information she'd gathered by the time she got back to him at the safe house. If she was going to come back and try to get more information, it would have to be after Theron had vacated the premises. There would be much less risk that he'd discover any tampering with his computer systems that way, and she did not care to try her own skill against someone of his caliber without cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been sort of a hectic few days, and there's been a lot on my plate, so this has been sort of slow coming together. Sorry about that. ;) 
> 
> Song is Breathe Again - Sara Bareilles
> 
> _Open up next to you, and my secrets become your truth.  
>  And the distance between that was sheltering me comes in full view.  
> Hang my head, break my heart, built from all I have torn apart...  
> And my burden to bear is a love I can't carry anymore._
> 
> _All I have, all I need, he's the air I would kill to breathe.  
>  Holds my love in his hands, still I'm searching for something.  
> Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I'll breathe again._


	96. Something In The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Quinn spend a day re-discovering themselves. 
> 
> That bottle of wine proves prophetic. But maybe Nox already knew that.

The chime of the door came while Quinn was still asleep, and his first thought was that it had to be Lana Beniko, because no one else was ever awake when he left his room as a rule. When the door opened, however, Selirah was standing out in the hall, leaning against the doorframe. She was dressed in a surprisingly relaxed manner, with fitted breeches tucked into thigh high leather boots, and a cropped, fitted black top under a loose-woven gold sweater. “My lord,” he said, catching himself too late to correct himself from the habitual address to her current honorific, “is there something wrong?”

Her lavender eyes took in his informal attire and the wavy, tousled dark hair, regarding him thoughtfully. “Nothing is wrong. We're going out, you and I. I know you have some regular clothing, Malavai, so put them on. No uniform today, though you can bring your blaster, if you'd like. And bring a towel. And something to read.” With this oddly specific set of orders, she turned as if to go, before adding, “Meet me at the door that leads to the forest, if you would, please.” As Selirah headed down the hallway, Quinn saw that she already had a pack slung over one shoulder with a rolled up blanket tied to the side, and that she was wearing her lightsaber on one hip despite her otherwise casual clothing, the hilt hanging from the belt around her waist. 

Cleaning up in record time, even for his usual efficient method, Quinn found himself stymied by the relative lack of actual 'regular clothing' in his locker. Finally, he found a dark blue shirt, tailored and made of a soft fabric, packing a heather grey sweater into his bag, along with the requested towel. Tucking his datapad into the bag, folded into the towel for protection, took care of the 'something to read' section of Selirah's odd series of commands. Black pants, his blaster, and a pair of neatly polished boots completed his outfit to his satisfaction, and he brushed his hair into order with quick, practiced motions, smoothing it into place before heading out the door with his pack. 

Selirah was sitting on a crate near the base exit, with a second pack by her feet. She scooped it up and got to her feet when Quinn appeared, giving him an amused look. “Close enough,” she commented, indicating his attire with a quick, all-encompassing wave of one hand. “The blue is nice, though. It suits you.”

“Where exactly are we going?” he asked as she opened the door and led him out into the wilds. Odessen's forests were dense and rich, and this early in the morning, a light mist lay over the valley. The air was sweet and clean, and the faint sound of tumbling water carried to Quinn's ears. Ahead of him, Selirah led the way down the narrow track, passing a small, crystalline pool. Her slender lekku swung down her back, the tips swaying above the curve of her rear, and Quinn pulled his eyes away self-consciously, realizing he'd been staring. 

“Does it matter?” Selirah glanced over her shoulder, her violet eyes resting on him as she waited for Quinn to catch up when the trail widened. “Arcann is being me for today, and I'm taking a day off. And so are you.” 

Falling in beside her, Quinn thought about her response. His talk with Arcann had been civilized enough, and it was true that they both wanted nothing more than to get their hands on Theron, but he hadn't imagined that the other man would choose to step aside and let him have the time he'd asked for so easily. There had to be more to it than he was seeing, and possibly more to it than even Selirah understood. “Of course I'm pleased to be accompanying you. I was just curious as to our destination, if there is one. But perhaps it's more of an.. impromptu trip?” 

“I can't imagine you'd be at all comfortable with that, Malavai,” Selirah told him, her sidelong glance replete with a subdued hint of humor. “How could you enjoy yourself, if you didn't know exactly what was going to happen and when?” She reached up, picking a branch off one of the saplings lining the meandering, overgrown path, her slender fingers examining the leaves curiously as they walked together.

“You are never predictable, Selirah. I learned that I was going to have to give up my idea of planning everything years ago, when I realized it would never be your way to assess every possible outcome before acting.” Quinn shrugged his shoulders, a half-smile touching the corners of his lips. “Are we just going to walk until we find a suitable stopping place?”

She rolled her eyes at him, but the expression was not one of frustration so much as one of good-humored teasing, and Selirah dropped the branch, tucking her arm into the corner of his elbow. Her hand rested on his forearm, and he brought his free hand up to cover it lightly for a moment before dropping it back to his side, mindful of the risk of overstepping his boundaries. “I have a place in mind, actually. But it's a bit of a hike, I admit. The only faster way to get there involves rock climbing. I thought.. it might be nice to just relax, swim. There's food in this pack,” Selirah admitted, patting the second pack she was carrying, “and we can do anything we want. Today, I'm just me, and you're just you. The rest of the galaxy can go away for a while.”

Quinn could hear the sadness in her voice, just before she finished speaking, and he pointed at a divergence in the path, waiting for her to indicate which direction that she wished to go before continuing on. They walked at a leisurely pace, with no particular need to hurry; the whole day stretched before him, with only Selirah for company. It wasn't a small gesture Arcann had made, taking her responsibilities so she could relax, and he wondered what had happened to instigate it. He hoped that she would tell him of her own free will, though; asking seemed terribly rude, and he had no wish to bring up anything unpleasant today if there was no need. “We can go anywhere you like. I've only been out here with you, on our walks, so I've never gone much further than this. It's quite beautiful.”

The pebble-lined riverbed crunched underfoot, and Quinn felt Selirah's hand tighten briefly on his arm for balance as a rock shifted beneath her boot. It felt so strange to be here with her, walking together, as if they really were just two normal people living their lives. No galaxy-wide conspiracies, no destiny, no thrones. Nothing but a quiet walk in a beautiful setting, on a wild planet. It was impossible for him to completely pretend that she was 'normal', or even just like him. But he had watched her meteoric rise from her side, and it was difficult to imagine the level of pressure that she lived under at all times. It wasn't a life that he envied, even though it was hers and he wished deeply to share in it and help her shoulder the burdens that she carried. 

“This was all Arcann's idea,” Selirah said suddenly, as if she couldn't help the words from escaping. Her glance at him was worried, filled with apprehension, and Quinn gently pulled her to a stop near a fallen tree that bridged the deeper water, realizing that she needed to talk about something. It was often this way with her, when something was weighing on her mind; it would come out in a rush, like water breaking through an overflowing dam. “I had – I have been having bad dreams, some nights. And it was terrible, last night. Theron..” Her words faltered, and he saw the pain in her eyes before she turned away from him, pulling her hand free to walk over to the fallen trunk. She leaned against the end of it, looking across the turbulently flowing river. “I dreamed that he killed me, stabbed me. Woke up screaming, and I think that Arcann just couldn't take it anymore. He wants me to feel better, but he doesn't know how to help me. He's grieving too, even though he tries to hide it from me. We both lost someone that day.”

Quinn saw the gleam of tears in her eyes, but he didn't approach her. It was clear to him that she wanted to just get these feelings off her chest, not ask for comfort; that was often difficult for her to do, and she could be prickly or even aggressive if she felt she was being treated like she was weak. “He loves you very much, I can see that. We spoke more, the other night, after he took you to your room. And Arcann is..” gesturing at her vaguely with one hand, Quinn gave her a rueful look, “like you. Powerful. Young. You have so much in common with him. And he understands you so well, sometimes. I don't think I could have done what he's done today. I would have wanted to be the one you came to, not chosen to send you to someone else. Yet, he did exactly that.”

Selirah leaned back, resting her hands on the tree trunk behind her for balance. Her eyes closed, and she tilted her face up towards the sky, letting the warmth fall on her skin. “We are alike in a lot of ways, yes. Too much so, in others. But he was right – out here, away from everything that reminds me constantly of Theron's absence, I do feel better. It's so suffocating to be in there, with everyone staring at me, and I'm tired of it all. I've missed your company, Malavai.” Her head turned, birdlike, quick. Violet eyes opened, transfixing Quinn. “I am sorry that I sent you away on Iokath. I was.. afraid. To hurt you as well as Arcann and Theron. But it was just selfishness on my part, trying to avoid dealing with how I felt.”

Quinn met her gaze uncertainly, feeling his heart beat faster in his chest, flickering hope lighting his austere features. “And now?” he asked, hesitantly, almost afraid to hear the answer. Selirah pushed off the tree trunk, moving towards him. There was nothing but boldness to see in her body language, but Quinn was not fooled by the appearance of certainty that she always tried to project. Her real feelings were seldom as clear-cut, and he could see the fear in the tension of her jaw, the slight tightness around her eyes. He could not imagine what it felt like to her to try again in the face of the humiliating rejection Theron had subjected her to in front of the whole Alliance.. it'd taken Quinn years to even be able to think of facing her again after their relationship had failed. “How do you feel now?”

She came to a halt, close to him, less than an arm's length. Tipping her chin upwards, Selirah looked him in the eye, no hint of a smile touching her lips at all. “It was a mistake to push you away. When I saw you on Iokath that day... Malavai, it was like being struck by lightning. We were apart for so long, for six years..” 

“Six years, eight months, twelve days,” Quinn interrupted unexpectedly, and Selirah's eyes widened in surprise at the exacting correction. “My apologies. Please continue.”

“Exactly so. Not that anyone is counting,” she went on, dryly, but he could see the amused gleam in her eyes. “I didn't know how to react, or what to do. Everything was different, and I could not just pull you close to me, or kiss you, or tell you that I'd missed you and that I was sorry for my inability to forgive you before. I had others to consider, and I didn't want to hurt them, or you. So I pushed you away once I realized that I could not stay away from you, because I couldn't think of any other solution.”

“Selirah. I do appreciate the revelation, and the explanation. But I only want you to tell me if you want me to be with you, or if I have kept my hopes up for naught. Can you tell me that, straight out?” 

Selirah gave him a startled, wide-eyed look, her lips slightly parted on an indrawn breath, and he could see her set her shoulders in determination. “Yes.” It took her a moment to realize that Quinn was still waiting for her to clarify which part of his request she'd said yes to, and then she added hastily, “I want you to be with me. If you still want that. And we'll still have to figure things out with Arcann, of course.. I'm not sure he intended for..” Quinn picked her up off her feet abruptly, his hands around her waist, and she made a surprised noise, her words cutting off as his mouth touched hers. Flinging her arms around him, she kissed him back, her lips parting against his, and he pulled her firmly close. Closing her eyes, Selirah thinned the bond in her mind, limiting the feedback that Arcann would get, but she could feel his amusement just the same when he sensed her emotions before she withdrew, distancing herself. Her fingers slid into the thick, dark strands of Quinn's hair, closing slightly, holding him as he held her, tightly, as if she would never let go again. 

Quinn smiled against her lips, and kissed her again more thoroughly, a long, passionate kiss full of every minute that they'd been apart, and every moment that he'd wished he was sharing with her since they'd found each other again. The feeling of Selirah's body against his was an intoxicating sensation, and he wanted to just lay her down right here on the banks of the river, on the soft, thick grass; spend the rest of the day lost in each other, re-learning each other intimately. But he made himself break the kiss after a few delicious moments, pressing one last, brief kiss on her smooth forehead just above her headband as he lowered her feet to the ground again. “I do still want that,” he told her firmly. “I don't know if I could ever stop wanting you.”

“I could only make myself stay away from you if I sent you to another planet, Malavai, so I think you know that I feel the same way about you. We are far too entwined for it to ever be otherwise,” Selirah answered, her voice quiet and thoughtful. “I'm sorry that I hurt you. It was cruel of me to transfer you that way, without a word.” Something raw and painful inside her eased at the admission. “I will never do anything like that to you again.” Theron's loss still hurt her to the depths of her soul, and she knew it would for a long time. She'd thought, foolishly, that he had wanted a life with her, and learning otherwise had been a wound that would never fully heal. But this older loss -could- be repaired, and Quinn deserved better from her. He always had, even after the Baras situation, and she saw that now through the painfully clear lens of hindsight. “It's not much further. Come on.” 

She reached for his hand, but he took the strap slung over her shoulder instead, pulling the second pack over to hang alongside his. Then he took her hand, and they kept walking, paralleling the river and listening to the roar increase until it became nearly deafening. The white-capped, swirling water spilled over the edge of a cliff, falling below to the deep ravine that the river had carved. Selirah led Quinn unerringly over a huge fallen tree, jumping up onto it with the envious ease force-users always had with such athletic feats. His own grace had taken a hit over the years as he'd felt the weight of his years more often, and he wasn't too proud to take her hand and accept the assistance of her strength to help him up onto the broad trunk. He followed her across, and to the thin, barely visible path through the grass on the far side. 

Her idea of 'not much further' turned out to be somewhat different from Quinn's own, but as they followed a narrow trail up the side of a hill, he saw a cave opening in the rock face, small and nondescript, and Selirah's hand tightened in his, pulling him along. She stopped halfway through the tunnel, and pulled a strip of cloth out of her bag, folding it into a blindfold. “No peeking,” she told him, and Quinn smiled, turning his back so she could tie the blindfold on. He adjusted it carefully, making certain that no light could get in, and held his hand out for her to take. 

Her warm fingers in his led him forward, and the trust he felt was justified; she didn't let him run into the walls or trip over anything, taking him safely out into a space that somehow he could feel had widened out from the close rock walls they'd been traversing. Quinn could hear falling water, and smell the sweetness of a freshwater lake. The breeze was light, whispering through the plants and trees, and he could feel lush grass beneath his feet when he stepped out behind Selirah, stopping when she halted him with a hand to his chest. There was a light floral scent on the air, but he realized quickly that it was the familiar scent of kibo flower oil, and that she was leaning close to him, her arms resting on his shoulders. Selirah kissed him, and he could feel her smiling against his lips as her fingers untied the knot of his blindfold, pulling it away from his eyes.

The grotto was stunningly beautiful, almost indescribably so, and Quinn looked around in astonishment, trying to take it all in. A waterfall spilled from high up the cliff face, splashing frothily into the glassy pool below. The water was pure and clear, and he could see the rock bottom of the pond perfectly, even beneath the roiling tumble of the waterfall. Fish darted in colorful schools, and huge, broad-leaf palms and ferns hung over the water's edge, the gigantic verdant leaves nodding gently in the light breeze that circled playfully around the worn rock walls that stretched upwards. 

While he'd been gawking at the scenery, Selirah had been busy pulling things from the pack she'd taken from his shoulder. A blanket lay on the grass, covered in small containers and baskets, and she was kneeling beside her pack, digging a pair of slightly battered cups out when he rejoined her, sinking down on the blanket with her and dropping his own pack on the grass. “This is an amazing place,” he told her sincerely, basking in the smile that appeared on her face at his words. “Beautiful. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it.”

“Satele Shan.. she was here, for a time, waiting for me. Or so she says,” Selirah explained wryly. “That is a difficult woman to read accurately. But even so, she took me here, to teach me something that she thought I needed to learn. It was a surprisingly valuable lesson, about the value of standing my ground and only fighting if I had to do so. I admit, I still would rather simply fight,” she admitted, picking out a seasoned slice of cooked food from one of the containers with her fingers, something that looked very much like an odd fungus to Quinn's eyes. “It has proven to be good advice, though, at times since then. That advice was what prompted me to listen to Arcann when he came to me on Zakuul, rather than just attacking him.” She popped the bite into her mouth, closing her eyes briefly in transparent enjoyment.

“There is something more between you, isn't there? You seem to connect on some far deeper level.. I've seen the way you always know where the other is, and how you seem to know what the other is thinking without saying anything,” Quinn asked, curiously. He was surprised to realize that he genuinely was intrigued and that it wasn't just jealousy – though he would not have tried to pretend that he didn't feel -some- jealousy of Arcann's strength, youth, and power. He was here today because Arcann had set aside his own dislike in order to do something to make Selirah happier, though, and that mattered. He couldn't do less in return.

“We have done everything possible to hide our relationship. The Alliance knew, of course, but even some of our people don't really understand why we were trying to keep it concealed from common knowledge.” Selirah stretched out on her stomach, selecting more tidbits of food, looking pointedly at Quinn until he did the same, wisely staying away from the odder things she'd brought and sticking to things that he recognized. “He and I formed a bond when I nearly died on Darvannis. In truth, I think it had begun even before that, but it certainly cemented it. He found me after the explosion, searched tirelessly until he dug me out, and he said he could feel me there, feel my pain.” She licked her fingers absently, then picked up a small skewer with a pronged end, using it to spear more pieces of food. “If our enemies knew, we would be easy weapons to use against each other. Hurting me causes him pain, and the reverse is true as well. Someone could torture him to force me to do what they wished. Or kill one of us and incapacitate the other for a time. We could not allow that information to get out.”

Quinn balanced a container of a lightly sauced mixture of crisp vegetable slices on his knee, using a similar utensil to select pieces to eat as he considered what she had told him. “It was the smartest course of action, although I'm sure you know that eventually, the news could get out. It's a dangerous thing for people to know. It absolutely makes targets of you both,” he agreed finally. “I'm glad that you told me. Can he.. does he hear you, somehow?”

“Are you wondering if he's listening to us now, Malavai?” She laughed, shaking her head. “No, it's not.. like that, really. Sometimes, if the bond is wide open, or if I'm not keeping him out, he can experience what I'm doing for short times and I can do the same with him. We share dreams at times, and we easily sense each other's emotions and feelings unless we make an effort to keep the connection to a minimum. Communication isn't exactly verbal, though we can speak in dreams, or when unconscious at the same time. But he can't just listen in on me, or know everything I'm doing.” 

“Good. I appreciate what he did today, but would rather that this day be just ours,” Quinn said fervently, and smiled at her, reaching into his bag while being careful not to upset the food balanced on his knee. He pulled out a bottle of wine, and motioned with his free hand towards the glasses. “Nox gave this to me for a special occasion. She is.. quite an interesting personality.”

Selirah chuckled at the politely spoken understatement. “To say the least.. wait. Is that Chandrilan wine? She gave that to you? How...?” Her violet eyes widened, and she sat up, holding the cups as Quinn opened the bottle and poured some into each. 

“I was hoping you could tell me, but I see she's too sly for both of us.” Quinn gave her a rueful smile, and Selirah's answering smile warmed. “Regardless, it's a fine bottle of wine, one with some very pleasant memories for us both. No point in letting it go to waste when we have something to celebrate.”

“You're right.” Selirah's cup clinked against Quinn's, and she made an appreciative noise at the taste of the wine on her tongue, remembering the last time she'd had it, years ago. “That was one of the happiest days of my life. I remember everything about it. And now, here we are, starting over. Six years..”

“Eight months, and twelve days,” Quinn supplied patiently, his dark blue eyes amused. “Of course, it's been longer now. I missed you, Selirah. I missed us. Nothing feels right about being apart from you, and away from your side. I know that it's going to take time to get to a place where it works because your life is so different and complicated. And I know that Arcann and I will have to learn to get along with one another. But today feels as good to me as our wedding day.” Jaxan's words to him about telling her that he'd missed being with her came back to him, and he smiled a little, lingering over the delicious flavor of the wine. The young Jedi had been more insightful than Quinn had imagined possible, and if he was honest with himself, Nox's advice had even been helpful. 

“I missed you too, more than I could say. Will you read something to me, Malavai? I always loved spending evenings together at home in Kaas City, listening to your voice,” she asked, softly, clearing aside the half-eaten meal haphazardly. 

“Of course.” He pulled out a datapad, flipping through selections. “Perhaps not this one.. or this one.. Ahh. This might be pleasant.” Selirah stretched out on the blanket, resting her head on his legs, and Quinn steadied the datapad with one hand, bringing his free hand down to touch her shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly over her collarbone. She closed her eyes, a faint smile curving her lips as he began to read Alderaanian poetry to her. The slow caress of his fingers over her skin helped quiet her mind, and she relaxed, toeing off her boots halfway through the first poem, digging her bare feet into the thick grass. Quinn's voice, crisp and familiar, fell softly on her ear, and she wondered if it was the same for him when he listened to her. 

She took over the reading after a while, and it was Quinn's turn to relax, his head in her lap. Of course, he did not seem to find it nearly as easy to unwind as she had, but after a while, he was dozing, half-asleep. Half soon turned into entirely asleep, and Selirah slid her legs out from under him carefully, pillowing his head on her folded towel. Fingers carded lightly through his dark hair, smoothing it back from his brow, and she bent to kiss him before she rose to go and take a swim while he napped. Undressing, Selirah left Quinn there in possession of the blanket to get some rest, walking out alone into the cool water of the pool. The rounded pebbles and solid stone mingled beneath her bare feet, and she sank into the crystalline water, rolling onto her back and letting herself go boneless. Floating on the surface, she barely moved, only shifting her muscles slightly to keep herself afloat, feet giving small kicks to propel herself lazily. Her lekku trailed down through the water, and she could feel fish brushing past them, small mouths nibbling at her skin lightly. 

The water lapped against her side lazily, as she floated, losing track of time as the afternoon wore on slowly. The stress left her body, and she let her mind drift, for the first time in a long time thinking of nothing but the coolness of the water on her skin, and the breeze tickling across her bare stomach and chest. Selirah didn't open her eyes when she heard footsteps on the worn stones dotting the beach, or when she heard him enter the water, making the soft, lapping touch turn into a ripple that pushed her a little further out into the pond. Quinn's hand touched her stomach, his fingers tracing her tattoos idly, and he kissed her, one of his rare, real smiles the first thing she saw when she did finally open her eyes to look up at him. “I didn't wake you?” she asked, letting her feet drift downwards. 

“No, I realized you were gone and wanted to find you, only to realize you're over here playing fish. And naked.” He chuckled, shaking his head at her. “What if something attacked you? There's plenty of dangerous wildlife out here.”

“You'd save me.” The unhesitating response surprised Quinn in its simplicity, plainly stated and empty of embellishment. “I knew I was safe.”

“I was sleeping.. how could you be so certain?”

“Because you would never let me come to harm, Malavai. I know that.” She stood up, water dripping down her lean body, refracting light. Quinn tried to look away, or at least not stare quite so obviously, but he could see the satisfaction in her eyes as she watched him struggle and fail against his own desire. He knew she had always loved to provoke him like this – to force him to let go of his rigidly controlled emotions. And he admitted, if only to himself, that he had always lacked a great deal of control where she was concerned. Perhaps even more so now that he saw what she had become, and what she had created with her followers. 

“How can you trust me like that?” He tried to keep his mind on the question he'd asked, but her hands were on his chest, sliding lower, over his stomach. When her fingers slipped into the shorts that Quinn was wearing for the water, the question left his brain completely, as did everything else. He bit his lip, stifling a low groan, and her hand closed around him boldly, stirring him into a level of arousal that wasn't terribly helpful for continuing the conversation. 

“I know I can trust you. You made one mistake, years ago, and you've paid for it. You would never do it again.” Her hand moved, and Quinn gasped, his body tensing visibly beneath her intrigued gaze. Selirah smiled, and her wrist flicked teasingly, hand gliding over his thickening cock with deliberate playfulness, watching his hips arch forward helplessly in response. “I know that you love me, Malavai. I will never doubt you, because you will never give me a reason to question your loyalty. Will you?”

He shook his head, slowly. Quinn could feel her hands sliding around the back of his shorts, pulling his hips against hers, her hands cupping his rear, and he closed his eyes with a groan, bending to kiss her. “Never,” he told her fervently, her soft lips brushing against his in a series of light, enticing kisses that never quite became the deep, passionate kisses that he desired. It only drove him more crazy, the feather-light touches; almost a full kiss, but not quite. “I love you. I always have.”

“I love you too. Now, show me,” she whispered against his lips, and he lifted her in his arms, her naked skin decorated with water droplets that gleamed like crystals against her deep red skin. Quinn kissed her the way he wanted to, had been craving, like she was necessary for his very survival. They'd both changed so much in their time apart, but touching her like this, laying her down on the blanket and running his hands slowly over every inch of her skin; that hadn't changed at all. She was still beautiful, still sensual, and he wanted her like he'd never wanted anything else in his life. Like her bold teasing earlier, he could see the answering, unapologetic need in her violet eyes as she gazed up at him, and her hands were impatient, tugging down his wet shorts and throwing them aside. 

Their bodies twined together, unable to stay apart for a moment longer, and Selirah wrapped one leg around his hip, arching up against him, her hand sliding between them, guiding him into her. Quinn wanted to close his eyes, to lose himself in that moment of connection, to only care about how it felt, but he couldn't bear to miss the look on her face. So he watched her as his hips thrust forward, saw the pleasure and desire that flooded her eyes when he filled her, the way her gaze lost focus, became fogged with her own arousal and a reflection of his. 

It was impossible to imagine that he would have this moment again, and again. That they had a future again, together, and that his life would be full of her the way he had always wanted it to be. But it was true, and the fact that it had taken someone else's betrayal to bring them back together years after his own had split them up was not lost on him, either. 

Her nails bit into his back, digging in sharply, and he caught his breath at the pain, taking her wrists and pressing them to the blanket on either side of her head. Quinn held them there, and drove his hips forward, pinning her hips roughly at the apex of each thrust, feeling the length of her body arch against his, begging wordlessly for more. He gave her what she wanted, what they both wanted, listening to the breathless cries he forced from her as his cock slid rhythmically into her, joining their bodies intimately. Selirah's hands twisted in his grip, and he smiled at her, slowing his thrusts, and stopping inside her, grinding against her and watching her gasp aloud. “Do you want me to let go of your hands?”

“Yes. Malavai, please.” His hands tightened on her wrists instead of releasing them, and she gasped, the pain only augmenting her pleasure. Selirah drew a shaky breath, meeting his blue eyes. “Please.”

He let go, and she growled at him, her hands coming up to take his shoulders. She pushed him over onto his back in the grass, rolling them off the blanket entirely, and knelt astride him, her hips moving in rough, impatient thrusts over him. She held his shoulders, her eyes on his, and Quinn sat up, wrapping his arms around her, slowing her hips, taking the rhythm to a languorous, lazy speed. Selirah's hands cupped his face, her slender fingers tracing the line of his cheekbones as she kissed him. Her hips moved slowly against his, her body balanced on her knees, straddling his thighs, and when she came, he muffled her cries of release with his mouth, his hands tightening on her back, holding her against him. 

Not content to stop, or let himself finish yet when he'd waited for so long, Quinn lifted her hips off his, guiding her onto her hands and knees on the blanket. His right arm wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her back onto his cock, his left hand guiding himself back inside her. The sensation was indescribable, and he took her hips in his hands, holding her tightly. She gasped for him, her hips bucking back against him, driving him deeper. He held out as long as he could before it was too much for him, too much pleasure, too much need for her, too much that he was with her at all like this. Quinn's hands tightened, biting into her skin, and she cried out under him as he buried himself inside her, letting the immense pleasure of his climax wash over him in waves. 

“I wish I didn't have to go back.” Selirah lay on her stomach some time later, still naked, feet kicking above her in the air as she decimated several containers of food at once. Quinn had taken several for himself as a defensive move, knowing if he didn't she would just go through them all in an effort to refuel the body that he still could hardly believe was on display in front of him. He balanced one of the circular containers on the curve at the small of her back, stroking her skin slowly with one hand as he ate with the other.

“If you want another day, I'm sure it could be arranged, Selirah. No one would blame you for it, and it's not as if Arcann can't take care of anything that arises in the meantime.” He offered her a bite of the spiced meat he was eating, and she ate it off the small skewer in his hand. “Everyone needs time to themselves. Even you. Especially you.”

She smiled, shaking her head briefly, lekku rippling down her back with the motion. “No, I've had my free day, and I can't keep hiding out, Malavai. As tempting as it is to just stay here for another day with you, I have to get back to work. We have too much to do, and there is too much at stake.” Quinn saw a shadow cross her face, and knew she was thinking of the necessity of finding Theron Shan, and what it would mean when they finally did. “I'll need you there to help me, so you can't just stay here and become a nature child either,” she teased, laughing when he made a disgusted face.

“Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful here, but.. I don't think living in the wilds of Odessen would suit me in the least.”

“Imagine all the dirt on your uniform. Your boots would be beyond holding a shine,” she agreed, and Quinn rolled his eyes at her, offering another bite of the spicy, fried meat before he switched to a bowl full of sweet, nectar-drenched fruit.

“You laugh now, but I don't remember you ever disliking how I looked in uniform,” Quinn told her smugly.

Selirah stretched lazily, all the way down to her toes like a big cat, and rolled over, sitting up. “That's true. You make uniforms incredibly attractive, Malavai. But I've yet to see you in anything.. or nothing, for that matter.. that didn't flatter you excessively. It's enough to give the rest of us a complex.” She began pulling on her clothes, the burgeoning chill as the afternoon began to give way to early evening enough of an impetus. 

The two of them cleaned up the leftover food, and finished the wine before packing up and heading out into the forest. It was a long walk back to the base, and Quinn wasn't sure what form their newly rekindled relationship would take in the days to come. That was a small concern, in the larger picture. And when she didn't drop his hand as they entered the base, and kissed him in the lift on the way down to the war room and her chambers, he couldn't bring himself to mind too much that Arcann was waiting for her return, or that he'd likely have to return to his own room tonight without her by his side. The rest would work itself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's Something In The Water - Brooke Fraser
> 
> It's a very bouncy song *laughs* And amusingly I first heard it on the most ridiculously cute video of some Birman cats playing in their backyard and kitchen. ;) I stand by my selection though even though it's a little too adorable. *not sorry*
> 
> _Give me long days in the sun,  
>  Preludes to the nights to come.  
> Previews of the mornings, layin' in all lazy.  
> Give me something fun to do,  
> Like a life of loving you.  
> Kiss me quick now, baby, I'm still crazy over you._
> 
>  
> 
> Come take pot shots at me at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cavalier-life


	97. What About Your Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selirah and Arcann meet with Dr. Lokin.
> 
> Nine and Twelve have a close encounter of the Theron kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some blood/violence, but it's not excessive.

**Throne Room, Odessen:**

“Do you know why Lokin needed to speak to me?” Selirah asked, her right hand reaching for Arcann's metallic left as one of the captains working for Hylo departed, feeling his fingers close on hers. She could not see him well without turning around; he stood just to the right of her throne, ever so slightly out of range of her peripheral vision. The touch, however, was viscerally comforting, and she slouched bonelessly in the throne, glancing at their joined hands. “He rarely seems inclined to leave the laboratory, and I must admit, I don't think I've had so much as ten words from him since he arrived here.”

“I am not sure. I'm not even certain that he told Lana what it was regarding. She says that he used to be part of an agent's crew, years ago?” Arcann's deep voice held curiosity, but no concern. His calm could so easily be disrupted, but despite that, when she was on uncertain ground, Selirah found solace in his ability to consider multiple outcomes. “No doubt secrets are simply habit for someone accustomed to the dealings of Intelligence.”

“Perhaps.” Selirah agreed, releasing his hand reluctantly as she detected the hum of the lift. She straightened her posture, knowing that her comfort mattered considerably less than presenting the proper image of power. “It -was- the same crew that Kaliyo and Scorpio both were a part of, however. I suppose we'll find out what this is about soon enough.” Dr. Lokin's approach was bold, his strides brisk and no-nonsense. He was an older human, with white hair, and an affable, friendly face that immediately made Selirah want to trust him, which had no doubt been an immense asset to him when he'd been more active on an agent's private crew. She knew better than to buy into his appearance though, any more than she found Darth Nox's delicate looks to be at all accurate about her personality. “Dr. Lokin. I am sorry that we've had little time to get to know one another, but Dr. Oggurobb has been effusive in his praise for your work.”

Lokin's eyes took in Arcann's looming, broad-shouldered presence beside the throne, the two men looking at each other assessingly for a moment before the human doctor responded. He sketched a halfway graceful bow that somehow also conveyed a hint of mockery, a self-deprecating smile curving his lips. “I can only imagine that the minutiae of the sciences are not of particular interest to you, Empress. I assure you that I appreciate the opportunity to work with someone like Oggurobb, and have thus far been made quite welcome in your Alliance.”

Arcann folded his arms, and Selirah could feel his curiosity, and a thread of suspicion when he looked at Dr. Lokin. She leaned back in the throne, settling herself more comfortably. “You had something that you wished to bring to my attention, is this correct? Why don't you go ahead and explain it.”

“Ahh, yes. Well, without going into an excess of detail, I felt that I should inform you that an old contact of mine reached out to me recently. While on a job, the finer points of which I did not inquire about, she came across a target of some interest. Thinking quickly, she obtained some images of the subject, and sent them to me.” Lokin approached the throne, and handed Selirah a small viewscreen, upon which were several images. Arcann leaned in to look, and his eyes widened slightly at the clear pictures of Theron on an unknown planet, outside of a facility. He glanced at Selirah, but she was very still, even in her presence within their shared bond, her eyes moving slowly from the screen in her hands to the doctor's face. “I took the initiative of asking her to look into the situation further after she tagged him with a tracker.. she had recognized him, of course.. and she found him on a second planet. I was copied in on the information that she obtained, and I have already sent that to you, Empress, and to Lana Beniko. I've also asked her to try to tag his shuttle before he leaves her current location.”

“I see.” Selirah's voice sounded brittle, but she smiled at Lokin, forcing the expression determinedly. “That was excellent thinking on your part, Dr. Lokin. Is it possible for your associate to meet a team of ours, and give us some direction on where to look? I cannot assume that he is still on the same planet.” 

Lokin hummed thoughtfully to himself, and nodded. “I believe she might be willing, with certain assurances. She is an independent sort, and not interested in finding herself beholden to any larger entity at this point in her life. You understand.”

Seliran nodded, making a vague, graceful gesture with one hand. “I have no wish to do any such thing. I only want to be able to pick up his trail, for obvious reasons. Please meet with Lana immediately and go over the technical end of your information with her. You have done a great service for me today, Dr. Lokin. I recognize that, and I will not forget it.” Her words were gently stated, but Arcann could hear the dismissal in them clearly, and thankfully Lokin seemed to have gotten the same impression.

“It was a pleasure meeting with you. I'm glad that I could be of assistance,” Lokin said, looking somewhere between Selirah and Arcann, as if he did not care to meet either of their gazes right now. He inclined his head politely, and turned away. “I will meet with Lana Beniko at once.” 

Selirah said nothing as the doctor exited the throne room, and even after he was gone, she was silent for long enough that Arcann began to feel concerned. She stared down at the screen in her hands, Theron's familiar features filling it, and he saw her stricken face darken with grief and frustration. 

“We knew this day would come eventually,” Arcann said as gently as he could, kneeling before her. He took the screen out of her hands, setting it aside, and her violet eyes lifted to his face slowly, focusing on him. “You knew we would have to deal with him, Seli.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice soft. “As much as I hoped otherwise.” Her pain filled the bond between them, and Arcann took her hands in his, holding them in his. “I hoped he would just have the sense to disappear, keella. To never come back, or be seen again.” 

“What do you want to do? Lana is going to come to you once she's gone through Lokin's information, and she's going to want to go after him.”

“You want the same thing, Arcann. You and Quinn both. I am not blind. The two of you do not like each other, but this sudden cooperation could only be the result of a mutual goal, and I can feel your fury and see the hatred in Quinn's face every time something new comes to light about Theron's betrayal,” she said calmly, and under the regard of her eyes, Arcann could only lower his own gaze, rather than let her see the truth written on his face. “But I know that I can, and should, be overruled on this. My feelings are only mine to deal with, and I know that we cannot let him get away with what he's done.”

“I'm sorry, love.” Arcann's fingers intertwined with hers, and he lifted her hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles gently, seeing how pale from strain that they were and feeling how tightly she gripped him. “I truly am. You're right, I'm angry at Theron. I want revenge for what he did to us both. But I understand how difficult this is for you. No one could have imagined this would happen, or that he would do this. It is not a situation you should have to handle, not alone. Don't try to do that, Selirah. I am part of this too, and I want to be at your side when we go to find him.”

Selirah watched him, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, trying not to feel as if she was suddenly drowning at the very sight of Theron. Somehow, some part of her mind had refused to believe that he was really gone. Had refused to believe that he'd betrayed her, and left her. It was impossible to maintain that polite fiction, with the images and proof in front of her, and it felt like the bottom had fallen out of her life. “I won't leave you behind, Arcann. As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think that I could face him without you. It's just so final – seeing him like this. I have to admit to myself now that he's gone, that everything is over between us.” She closed her eyes, bending down, her forehead resting lightly against Arcann's where he knelt before her throne. “It feels terrible, knowing that we will face him as a traitor, and not our Theron.”

Arcann got to his feet, guiding her to stand with his hands in hers. He pulled her into his arms, releasing her hands so he could hold her close, his arms around her waist. “He chose this, Seli, not you. You have to stop acting as if you somehow made him do it.” She laid her cheek against his chest with her eyes closed, and Arcann stroked her back soothingly. “Finding him is nothing you need be involved with, love. Whom should we send? Alyxia and Kass, perhaps. Lyorek?” 

“Gelena can pilot.. that would make a solid group. Lyo won't like leaving his little Jedi behind, I'd imagine. But Jaxan isn't ready for something like this, yet. It'd be distracting to them both,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Better he stays here. Yes, I think that's our team.” 

“Then I'll go speak to them, so they're ready to go when Lana finishes analyzing the data.” Arcann's arms loosened as he drew back a short distance, his gaze resting on her. “It isn't your fault, Selirah.”

“I keep telling myself that it isn't. It never occurred to me that things could end up this way. I thought I could trust him.”

“Trust in -me-, love,” Arcann told her gravely, his deep voice rumbling in the space between them as he drew her close, kissing her. “Nothing will come between you and I, and there's nothing that would entice me to hurt you. He'll pay for his betrayal.. that I can promise.” 

Selirah reached up to cup his face in her hands, looking into his eyes. The blue that she'd come to love seemed dimmer more often these days, affected by his low-boiling anger – she remembered the gold his eyes had been the first times she had seen him, and it was a concern to see him consumed by the thoughts of revenge and punishment for Theron. His redemption had been dearly won, and she had no wish to see him lose ground, not even for this. Not even to save her from having to act against Theron when they found him again. “Don't lose yourself in your thoughts of vengeance, keella,” she warned him. “We both know that's not a path that you want to walk again. Leave the darker emotions to me. I would not risk this change in you for anything.” He smiled at her, and she let him turn away from her and go, watching him leave the throne room as she sat back down. Bending, Selirah picked up the screen from the floor beside her throne, staring at the images of Theron's face, provided by Lokin's agent friend. 

“Where are you, Theron?” she mused. “And what are you doing there?” 

**Outer Rim, Planet Undisclosed:**

_Are you in position yet?_

“Almost.” Nine edged forwards on her stomach, scraping the material of her gloves on the uneven material of the rooftop. Her palms stung from the rocks as they tore through, but she dared not stand and risk exposing herself to any hostile fire until she was in position. Finally, she could see over the edge to the shuttle bay below. Only one shuttle was there, but it wasn't active yet, sitting quiet and dark in the humid air. Rain had been falling for over an hour now, and Nine could have sworn that she was starting to grow some mold in the heavy, sticky atmosphere. “In position. I can see the shuttle, but it's not in pre-flight.”

_That's alright, maybe they're running behind schedule. Like you._

“Very funny,” she told Twelve irritably. “Wasn't easy to get up here without being seen. Next time, -you- can do the field work and I'll make the snide commentary.”

_You're not nearly as funny. It would be tragic._

“Ha ha. There are droids guarding the shuttle but no activity here. Maybe I should go down, check the factory floor again.”

_It'd take you too long to get back up there. Tag the shuttle and head back. Might not get a shot at Shan today, but we'll have the shuttle's location._

Twelve's imminently reasonable tone was, as usual, devoid of any kind of real, discernable emotion. Some agents were that way, particularly when they'd been fast-tracked through training the way he had, due to his expertise with technology and computer slicing. His social brain hadn't really caught up to the dedicated slicer brain, and possibly never fully would. Nine understood him, found him amusing and was quite fond of him, but she knew he was intensely off-putting to strangers at times, which was why he usually wasn't in the field with her. Nine loaded a location beacon in the smaller tagging gun she had in her pack. It was a sensitive device, and so she'd kept it in the bag, away from the rain, until she was ready to utilize it, and even now it was wrapped carefully in a protective cover. 

She took careful aim, and fired. Before she could open her mouth to let Twelve know that she'd completed the tagging and that it was live, his voice came back over the comm unexpectedly. 

_Nine. Something's triggered the perimeter alarms in several locations. Someone is coming. Could it be your contact, or his people?_

“No. Self-destruct protocol, immediately. Do not try to get a visual, if you can't see anything on the monitors.”

_Do you know what is going on? Are we discovered?_

“Stay calm. Do what I told you to do, follow mission protocols, and then go to the bedroom. There's a base panel in the chest by the foot of the bed. Climb into the chest, and then trigger it. It will drop you out beneath the house and then fuse behind you. You can get out through an opening at the back of the crawlspace there. Go as far as you can. I'll find you. I'm coming now.”

_Understood. Hurry._

Nine packed up her kit as quickly as she could, moving back from the edge with less care than she'd pursued before. She knew she wasn't being nearly as careful as she should, but as she descended down the wall she'd scaled to get to the roof, all she could think about was getting to Twelve before something happened to him. He was a qualified agent; he could do everything he was expected to do. But Twelve's skills didn't lie in the same direction as hers, and if she was correct about what had gone wrong, he was in serious trouble. She just hadn't wanted to scare the younger agent by making a guess at who was outside the safe house.

But if it was Theron, how had he discovered them? How had he known to look for them at all, or where? She wasn't careless, and she'd made certain not to leave any signs of her presence behind. Unless he'd always known she was there. The devices being crafted had been enormously advanced. It was entirely possible that he'd had sensor devices online that she hadn't detected, that had followed her the entire time she'd been there in the factory. She might have brought this down on Twelve. Stupid.. stupid move. 

Her gloved hand, even equipped with tiny denticles set into the pads of her fingers for grip, slipped on one of her holds, and she tumbled the last ten feet or so in an uncontrolled fall, her back slamming into the ground. Nine wheezed in pain, the breath forced out of her violently by the impact, but she rolled to her side, forcing herself to her feet. 

_Hello agent. Where is your team?_

_Surrounding you even as we speak. Wave hello to them._

_So you're alone, and not a good liar, either. All the better. You understand that this is nothing personal. Just business. I can't have you telling tales about what you've seen here._

Nine gunned the speeder, hearing the sound of a blaster shot over the comm. The sound was odd, distant, and she realized he must have disconnected his physical unit and hidden it so that it would not be found, would not give her away. Twelve screamed in pain, and then she could hear him biting back any further cries, his breathing quick and frantic. 

_I'm not alone. I have a full team._

_Why aren't they stopping me, then? Even if someone finds out what happened here today, they'll only know that an agent died on a mission, as you so often do. They won't know who did it, or why. You'll be another nameless sacrifice on a muddy, backwater world._

She heard the distinctively wet, thick sound of a vibroblade striking flesh, and Twelve's pained grunt nearly simultaneously. The ground flew by beneath her in a blur, and she narrowly missed a tree branch in her haste, forcing herself to adjust course carefully and not jerk at the controls. Smashing into a tree wouldn't help Twelve at all, and she had to get there before Theron killed him.

_Aren't we all nameless sacrifices? I doubt anyone would mourn -you-._

The blade brought another scream from Twelve's throat, but this one she could hear in real time as well as on her comm, so she slowed the speeder, bringing it to a halt and launching herself off the seat. Nine circled around the safehouse, keeping a distance. She could see assassin droids facing the house, cutting off the avenues of escape from the front, the side. But in the back, there was only Theron standing over Twelve's thin frame on the ground. Nine knew it wasn't possible, and that it was her own distress lying to her senses, but she swore she could smell his blood on the breeze, even over the slightly noxious, rotting vegetation stink of the air. 

Twelve had his hands pressed to his thigh and his ribcage, and she could see the blood coating his fingers. There were multiple droids on the property, and starting a firefight was going to bring them all down on her head. Nine crept closer slowly, her body low to the ground, moving with extreme care through the brush so as not to give away her position with an injudiciously placed boot on top of a dry twig, making certain her monitoring equipment was set to record visual as well as sound. 

“Maybe no one will mourn me, but at least they'll have a name for me. You only have a designation. A number. You're nobody, and nothing. No one's son, no one's friend. You're a ghost, in a figurative sense,” Theron told him venomously, his face full of malice. “And soon in the literal sense, too.” He brought the heavy vibroblade up under Twelve's chin, forcing his head back away from the sharp edge to avoid being cut. “You could help yourself. Tell me what you were after. Were you just looking for me? Are you in the employ of the Alliance?”

“Somehow, I don't think it would help me at all to tell you anything,” Twelve replied thinly, coughing. Blood flecked his lips, bubbling with each word, and Nine felt her heart sink at the sight. His skin was pale from blood loss, and he was struggling to draw breath at all. “So you may as well do what you came here to do, and we'll both just have to live with our respective disappointments. I may just be a designation, but I will not die a traitor.”

“You could never understand the purpose of what I'm doing.” Theron pushed the blade higher, and Twelve hissed in pain as it cut into his skin, new lines of blood sliding down his jaw. “But perhaps it will comfort you to know that you were a part of something bigger than yourself.”

Twelve twisted his head away from the blade, and Nine saw his pain-filled eyes meet hers from across the distance separating them. He shook his head a little at her, but she saw Theron's eyes narrow, taking the motion as a refusal of his words. The blade drew back a short distance, but before his hand could complete the thrust and bury the knife into Twelve's bared throat, Nine drew her own blade, flipping it to catch it point downwards. She made the decision in an instant, and her hand snapped forward, and the blade buried itself to the hilt into Theron's side with a meaty sound. 

He rose halfway to his feet when the blade hit home, then staggered, his expression almost comically disbelieving. Nine circled around, making certain that the bulk of the house stood between her and the droids watching the other exits before she approached. She drew a second, smaller knife, and let Theron watch her coat the blade with fluid from a small vial that she'd snapped open with her free hand. Her face was set, empty of any emotion, and she didn't spare a glance for Twelve as she stepped over his wounded body, viciously jamming the knife home in Theron's ribs. She drove it in firmly, then twisted it, so close to him that they looked as if they were in a strange, violent embrace. 

“He wasn't lying.. there was a team. What have you done? You must let me...” he said in a choked voice, the words trailing off into a slurred, confused groan. Theron collapsed against her, and she dropped him to the ground, pulling her vibroblade out with an ungentle yank and leaving him to bleed on the ground. Moving to kneel beside Twelve, Nine checked his vitals and began treating his wounds as best as she could. 

“You should have let him finish me. Followed him to his destination and gotten more information about what his masters are up to. You know that.” Twelve's voice was thready, weak. He was so pale that Nine knew he was on the verge of unconsciousness, and was grateful for it. It was going to hurt him quite badly to get him transported to the ship, no matter how careful she was with him.

“I know. His droids will come looking for him soon, but we'll be gone. I have the tracker on his shuttle. Everything will work out.” 

“Why didn't you follow the mission protocols, Nine?”

“Because you are my only friend right now,” she admitted aloud. Twelve's eyes were closed, and she wasn't certain he'd heard her at all. But it was true, regardless. Her team was scattered, Lokin and Kaliyo with the Alliance, and Scorpio gone, the rest busy living their lives under their own identities. What had she to offer to them anymore? The power structure of the galaxy had changed irrevocably, and Nine was a nameless nobody with only a designation, just like Twelve. No longer even enfolded into the unfeeling arms of the Sith Empire, she was nothing but the fading ghost of something that had never existed in the first place. 

Sliding her hands under Twelve's shoulders, she lifted him and started to drag him away into the brush. They had to be safely gone before Theron woke up.


	98. Dead Man Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prisoner finds that they do have ways of making him talk.
> 
> Nine and Twelve arrive on Odessen for an exchange of favors.
> 
> Arcann opts in to Operation Find The Traitor.
> 
> Selirah struggles with the knowledge that she may have to do something about him if they -do- find him.

**Prison Complex, Location Unknown:**

He hadn't been allowed to sleep in so long that he was starting to feel sick with exhaustion. His captors seemed to want to keep him alive, but it was evident that the definition of 'alive' covered a lot of ground with them. Misery, pain, torture, drugs – those were all fine. It seemed to him that 'dead' was the only line they didn't wish to cross, and a few times, he'd even questioned if that would be too far for them. Holding on to his refusal to answer had held out for longer than he'd even thought he could manage, but they'd changed their tactics a few days ago. 

The first time they'd held him down and dosed him with the hallucinogen, he'd fought as hard as he could, even managing to injure several of the guards before they'd beaten him nearly unconscious. One of the guards, a particularly brutal, hulking creature, had knelt with nearly his full weight on his chest, pinning him viciously to the ground until he'd felt his ribs crack under the pressure. “Next time you try to fight, it'll go a lot worse with you,” the guard promised threateningly over his screams, smiling through the mask of blood from his broken nose. “No one cares where you are anyway, so I don't know why you keep struggling. Do what you're told, and things can be a lot better. No one is coming for you, so you'd better learn to get along with us. You could be here for a long time.” 

Since then, he'd been taught very exactingly what would happen to him if he fought the guards when they came to dose him again. He wasn't sure what was the worst part of the visits. That he could only resist physically for a little bit before being bone-crackingly forced, or that he recognized the drug being given to him. He couldn't quite remember why it was familiar; perhaps he'd gotten dosed with it during his time in the SIS, or... 

His mind ground to a stop every time he tried to remember anything about the incident with the Darth who had kidnapped him. It troubled him, but on the scale of things he had to worry about, it was not high on the list. He had to get out of here somehow. He didn't believe what the guards said, or what his interrogators said about the odds of his rescue. But every time they dosed him, they took him back to the questioners, and he couldn't remember anything that he said while he was under the influence of the drug. It was like being locked inside a tiny box in his own body and mind while his mouth talked, answering questions against his will. Not always sensibly or clearly, but nothing seemed to stop him from spilling information as long as he was lost in the hallucinations. Even the pain stopped (or seemed to, in his confused mind) while he was drugged, and after the second day, he'd realized he was starting to crave the release from the prison of his abused body that the doses brought him. 

In his cell alone, hours later, his body shaking in the icy cold as he came down from the effects, he closed his eyes, pressing his fists to his face, blocking out the stark emptiness of his room and the sound of sobbing from down the hall. Letting his thoughts drift through his memories, he thought of her, and her arms around him. The way she hated waking up in the mornings. Her smile. The feeling of her skin against his, warm and soft. She would come; there was no way she would leave him here. It had to be that he was just well-hidden, and that she hadn't found him yet. 

He slowly stopped shivering, and fell asleep, and for once, no one came to wake him until he'd had a chance to get a few hours of rest.

**Odessen:**

“You'd better not be thinking you'll get to bring him in.” Alyxia's dry, slightly ominous statement brought Lyorek's head around as he stood on the platform outside the base, watching the shuttle coming in for a landing. They'd gotten the call a short time ago from an agent.. a former agent, apparently.. with information about the traitor and a severely injured partner on board her ship. The exchange – information and assistance for medical care and healing for the second agent – had been arranged with very little drama or difficulty. And now she was coming in to the base. Nosy though it might be for him to be hanging around here, he was definitely not the only one gawking. 

The Mandalorian stood beside him, her helmet hanging from one gloved hand and her dark red hair lifting lightly in the breeze. Lyorek gave her a cheeky smile, knowing full well she wouldn't return the favor; he wasn't disappointed, either. She scowled at him, her green eyes unmoved by his charm. “Come on, Aly. It's not fair to threaten the rest of us. That isn't -winning-, it's -cheating-,” he pointed out, receiving a far less friendly scowl for his trouble. 

“If I threw you off this platform, you'd have a hard time winning anything but Most Likely To End Up In A Body Cast,” she shot back, shoving him with her free hand. Lyorek laughed and shoved her back, well-aware that to her, that kind of bruisingly affectionate behavior was a sign of fondness more than anything else. “Kass and I have money on which one of them will push in on the mission before we leave,” Alyxia added candidly.

“Which one of whom?” Lyorek gave her a curious look, his eyes flickering back to the shuttle as the door opened and the ramp lowered. Thin and wan, the first person to be removed was on a hover platform, his build and face surprisingly youthful. He had dark brown hair, and dark eyes, and a sprinkle of freckles over his nose, as well as several discreet, expensive looking implants around his eyes and behind one ear. The injured agent, obviously, though it was interesting that he seemed so young and potentially inexperienced to be working with an agent of Nine's renown.

“The prince, or the Empress, or the Imperial. There's no way they'll let us go after Theron and not try to go along to manage what happens to him.” Alyxia's gaze was fixed on the same spot as Lyorek's, watching the black-clad female agent who had just appeared in the doorway of the shuttle. A pristine, high-quality sniper rifle was slung over her back, and black hair lay over her shoulders in even, small rows of braids. Skin of a dark, rich hue had a soft red undertone, and her eyes were dark-lashed, the irises a pale, startling storm-grey color. Her features were not particularly notable otherwise; plain but neither singularly attractive or unattractive, the kind of face that one barely noticed in a crowd. Ideal in an Intelligence operative – a cultivated mediocrity that was intended to render her nearly invisible in most situations unless she wanted to be seen.

“Which one do you think will go?” Lyorek didn't turn to look at Alyxia, watching the agent as she passed them, her stride fluid and efficient. From this angle, they both could see the array of blades sheathed over her armor, all of the equipment a uniform matte black that wouldn't catch any light. A slim blaster hung at her side, and as she walked by, the woman glanced at them both with a calmly assessing gaze. 

Alyxia elbowed Lyorek sharply to bring his attention back to her, and he grunted obligingly in discomfort, turning to look at the Mandalorian as she spoke. “Arcann, I think. If Selirah went, they'd send more than just us. And Major Quinn would certainly want to go with her. My money is on Arcann,” Alyxia stated. “If you want in on the pool, Kass is holding the credits.”

“You're trusting -her- with the credits?” Lyorek said slyly, laughing. “You're going to get a completely useless, beer-stained IOU from her if you win. Who did she bet on?”

Alyxia had started to walk away already, the excitement of the moment well-past now that the agents were inside. The rest of the crowded walkway was beginning to disperse as well as Alliance members began to return to their work, but the bounty hunter stopped, glancing back at the Zabrak. “She says Quinn will go. That he won't pass up the chance to shoot the traitor.” Her shoulders lifted and fell in her heavy armor, an indifferent shrug. “Could be right. See you later.”

Lyorek waved his hand at the Mandalorian's curt farewell, his red-gold eyes returning to the entrance the newcomers had taken, down to the war room and the medical facilities. 

**Odessen, Medical Bay:**

The medical staff bustled around the room, preparing Twelve for the kolto tank immersion, treating him with antibiotics and capping his implants so they wouldn't short while he was submerged. Nine stood in the corner of the room, her arms crossed, watching them silently. She had asked for, and been granted, some time to watch over Twelve and be certain that he made it into the tank alive, fearing to give her information and then find out that her partner had died anyway. His pale, blood-deprived skin looked sickly in the brassy lights of the medical bay, far from his usual healthier tanned shade, and though she was content with the job she'd done staunching his bleeding, she knew he'd bled copiously before she could get to him. 

“You said his name was...” The Mirialan doctor paused, looking down at the datapad in her hands. “Twelve. Is that.. the only name?”

“Yes.” Nine gazed steadily at the other woman, forcing her shoulders to relax and a reassuring smile to come to her lips, watching the doctor visibly relax at the acceptable social cues provided. “It's his designation. His given name is classified. I don't know it, and it's possible even he does not know it. He will answer to Twelve just fine, don't worry.”

“Alright, thank you. We'll take very good care of him, agent. He'll need a couple of days in the tank, though.” They were inserting Twelve even as she spoke, and the doctor excused herself to oversee the process, checking his breathing apparatus by hand, and double checking the calculations on the medications that would be infused while he was suspended. 

Nine stood for a few more minutes, watching her partner go into the tank. His vitals flashed onto the screen, and she let herself exhale lightly in relief, then left the room, heading down the hall to the war room. The Empress was standing near the holotable, with Arcann beside her, their heads close together as they spoke to each other in low tones. A pale blonde human woman sat sprawled lazily on a nearby crate, her legs crossed and a wide-brimmed hat pulled down over her face as if she were sleeping. Nine noted the presence of Lana Beniko, and the former Dark Council member, Darth Nox, as well as a pair of Jedi, one older and the other young. A handsome, older Imperial officer stood on the other side of the Empress, his dark blue eyes following the agent as she entered the room. 

“Cipher Nine. I remember you,” Lana Beniko observed, her cool voice pitched to carry over the low hum of conversation. Most of the rest of the room fell quiet, multiple faces turning towards the newcomer in curiosity. “I shan't bother to waste time with pleasantries – I know you would not care for them. Your partner is safely being treated, and he will recover in time. So it's time for your part of the deal.”

Nine squared up, folding her arms neatly behind her back at her waist, each hand gripping the opposite forearm. “I can not give you the details of the reason I was on the initial planet, and I would prefer only to give the name of the planet to the most mission relevant individuals once the debrief is complete,” she began crisply. “As we go forward, you may stop me for questions if you feel it is necessary to do so for clarification, but it would slow the recital of the facts, and would be best if you saved any questions for afterwards. I was in an elevated position on a rock face, waiting for my target to come out of the building that he was concealed within.... my partner was providing tactical support and technical details, as is his duty in our team.” 

Selirah leaned against the railing behind her, arms crossed over her ribs as the debrief continued. The agent's voice was pleasant, low and husky, and her accent was pure Kaasian the majority of the time. Once in a while, though, the Twi'lek heard it shift into something less clear; sometimes echoes of Pierce's manner of speaking, and other times devoid of any Imperial musicality at all, instead sounding vaguely of the Outer Rim, or having the soft, accentless flavor of Theron's speech. She knew agents were chameleons, capable of becoming whatever was necessary to complete their missions, and that the agent known as Cipher Nine was well-known in the Empire, even legendary for her exploits and successes. That Nine had chosen to come to them at all, especially in order to preserve the life of another agent, was surprising. She'd managed to avoid the Empire's long arm for years; coming out into the light now risked everything she'd fought so hard to keep, especially her life. But Selirah had no desire to turn the woman over to Acina for any vague promise of reward from the Sith Empress – not if Nine's information panned out.

She knew she was woolgathering as a method of distracting herself from the content of the report being given. Every mention of Theron's name felt like a dagger in her heart, and the characterization of him even worse. Was this who he'd always been? Had he always had this lurking inside him? It felt improbable, but then everything about this ongoing waking nightmare from the moment he'd led her to the train on Umbara felt equally ridiculous and impossible. The man she'd known for years was not this person, not at all. Theron had made her try to do more. Be more. Selirah had wanted him to look at her and not just see a Sith, and she'd thought that he did. She'd always thought she was the one who needed to be the better person, for him. Now, nothing was clear anymore about any of their time together. Years with him sleeping by her side, years of learning to trust each other, working together, laughing together, loving each other – only to have it end in a mission to end the threat that he now posed to the Alliance that he'd help create.

Arcann's hand trailed up and down her back in slow, deliberate strokes, idly tracing the line of her spine with his cybernetic fingers. Selirah knew he could feel the turmoil in her mind, and she tried to push it aside, quiet her thoughts. He wanted to go along on the mission and she could feel his anticipation, and the undercurrent of dull anger that arose any time he thought of Theron or of the betrayal. Nine answered some questions, her elegant accent spotless again, and Selirah forced herself to pay attention more closely. But there were not many things for her to say in contribution to this discussion. At least, not many that she -wanted- to say. They could be steps away from finding Theron, or he could find the agent's tracker on the hull of his shuttle and disappear again. 

To her left, Quinn's dark-haired head was bent over a datapad, pulling up information on several obscure star systems. But as if he'd felt her gaze on him, he pulled his attention away, turning his gaze on her. A small, patient smile touched the corners of his lips, and Selirah felt an answering smile tug at her own, unable to help herself from responding to the affection in his deep blue eyes. Arcann was likely to insist on accompanying the team, and she wasn't sure that she could keep him from going even if she tried to force the issue. But Quinn would not push to go along when he could stay by her side, and she knew that she couldn't go along. There was no way that she'd be able to be there if they found Theron. Nox's saccharine-sweet voice broke into Selirah's reveries, and she straightened, her lavender gaze moving towards the blonde Inquisitor.

“If I may suggest a substitution, I would like to go along. I can take Lyorek's duties, and he can keep helping with the training here as needed until we return.”

“You weren't helping with the training up until this point, Nox,” Lana said dryly, and the other Sith smiled tightly in reply, an undercurrent of tension between the two women becoming obvious as the silence stretched out for too long before Nox chose to respond.

“You didn't have any trainees at a level to survive sparring with me, Lana. Take it up with the Voss woman, because that problem is hardly on -my- shoulders, now is it?” Lana's cheeks paled visibly in response to Nox's snide words, but she said nothing in return. “So it's settled. Lyo will stay here, and I will go along. Anyone else?” Darth Nox's blue eyes, wide and innocent looking, settled immediately on Arcann, and Selirah felt him shift uneasily beside her. 

“I know you want to go,” Selirah told him, her voice pitched low, though she knew some of the others were close enough to hear. “Be careful, and don't take any unnecessary risks.”

His hand stopped on her lower back, the prosthetic fingers spreading to rest against the curve flaring into her hip. Arcann leaned close to her, his lips brushing her jaw, the touch making her inhale quietly in response. She could feel his mouth curve in a pleased smile against her skin, but he only said, “I will come back to you, Seli.” Raising his voice to be heard clearly as he turned back to the room, he continued, “I'm going to go along, as well. This is a sensitive mission and we need to try to contain any further damage as best as we can.”

Selirah straightened, pushing off from the railing near the holotable. “I will leave you to the planning. I would -vastly- prefer that you capture the traitor alive, if you have an opportunity to do so. Make every effort to achieve this, because we can't learn anything from him if he's dead. I understand that emotions are running high about this matter, but I need you all to remember that fact. It is not a request.” She stepped away, circling around the table and heading for the lift, and Quinn fell in beside her. They rode in silence up the lift, walking through the upper level of the base and taking the lift up to the throne room. At this time of day, with patrols out and the meeting going on below level, there was no one present in the room but the skytrooper guards. 

Sinking down in the throne, Selirah stretched, hearing a few vertebra in her spine pop audibly with the motion. “I hope you didn't want to go as well, Malavai. If you do, I suppose we can discuss it, of course.” 

“I..” Quinn leaned his hip against the arm of the throne, taking up a far less formal stance than was typical for him, likely only because no one was in the room to see it except for Selirah. “I do. You know that I do wish to go, and be there when they find him wherever he is trying to hide from his actions against you. But I am not going to leave you here, and I understand why you don't wish to accompany them. I know you don't want to find yourself in the same position that you were in with me, and unable to take the action that you feel you must take.” He paused, and then added quietly, “There is nothing to be ashamed about in not wanting to face him after what happened, Selirah. It is clear to me that you feel guilty, and I know that he blamed you, and made you feel as if you were at fault for his discontent and loss of faith. I have watched you with your people, and your soldiers. I've seen you fight to defend their lives, and I have not seen you once choose to take actions that would endanger them unnecessarily or cost more lives than you had to lose. Theron is wrong in his accusations. He is completely, and totally wrong, mistaken, and inaccurate in the extreme. This is not on your shoulders, it is on his.”

Turning to look at him, Selirah gave him a small nod, her violet eyes thoughtful. “It's hard to acknowledge any of that, Malavai. It means... it means something that I'm not quite ready to face, I suppose. But Arcann says the same to me, and I do believe you both mean what you tell me. I even believe that you are right, deep down in my mind. And I know I have to handle this situation. I know it's going to mean taking strong action so no one is inclined to follow in his footsteps in the future. I cannot be seen to be weak, for any reason.” She leaned back in the throne, resting her head against the backrest, crossing her left leg over the right. “I will do what I must do when it's time, if they find him and capture him.”

“And the agent...? What do you intend to do about her?” Quinn's voice was devoid of implication, but there was no doubt what he meant by his questions. She had no question about his loyalty, or what purpose he served now that he was back at her side. But Quinn was an Imperial, as she was still to some degree, and she understood the inference in his words. 

“I will not repay her gesture of trust by turning her in to Acina, and I would be severely disappointed if anyone else did so either. She has given us a significant lead, and plentiful information and proof of her findings. We will treat her partner and give her any supplies she desires before she leaves. Acina does not rule here, Malavai.”

“Of course. Do you think she would choose to work with you or for you in the future?”

Selirah shook her head slightly. “No. And I wouldn't blame her for it. She has her freedom – why get embroiled in the politics of governments again? I envy her. If I was free, like that...” her words trailed off into silence, and Quinn laid his hand lightly on her shoulder in a supportive gesture as the lift whirred, bringing her next appointment to the throne room. She straightened her slouched position out of habit, but rested her hand over his gloved fingers for a moment, before he pulled away to stand at parade rest beside her. 

_If I was free, like that.. I wouldn't have to make an example of Theron for what he's done._


	99. Gotta Get Up And Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann and Selirah say goodbye.
> 
> There is dissent in the ranks, but everyone gets off planet without too much drama.
> 
> Nine's got her business face on.

**Odessen, Empress' Quarters:**

Arcann woke with Selirah's body sprawled over his, face tucked closely against his neck, her breath tickling the right side of his throat. A smile touched his lips; she had most of the bed to herself now as a matter of course, but it never seemed to stop her from trying to annex him and his side every night in her sleep. She was a conqueror even while she was at rest. 

He had seen that in her face, years ago. That first day when she'd woken on his shuttle, she had sat there weighed down by the heavy cuffs and glared at him, unafraid. Selirah had no idea of who he was, or of what was to come, but she had looked him in the eye, and been prepared to fight and survive. When he thought about it now, he wondered if that moment had set the course, rather than the later one in his father's throne room. Meeting those fierce violet eyes, her pride unbowed, spirit unbroken – he had felt something stir in his mind that day. Admiration, perhaps. Or recognition of the strength he'd seen in her later, the strength that had reminded him of his lost twin.

They had rarely been apart since he'd joined her Alliance, and he preferred it that way. But finding Theron was worth it. 

“Not time to get up yet,” Selirah said, her voice muffled and sleepy against his throat. “Tired. Go back to sleep, keella.” 

“Time for me to get up, love. You can sleep,” Arcann replied, lifting one of her arms so he could start to slide out from underneath her. She made an indistinct noise of protest, and twined her leg around his hip and thigh, her free arm sliding around his shoulders. “We're leaving today, Seli. Nine says that the window won't be very large for catching him on the new planet.”

“Mmm.” It -sounded- like agreement, but she didn't let go of him. Turning his head towards her, he kissed the side of her cheek, and Selirah hummed thoughtfully under her breath, sounding less sleepy and more interested, something that was quickly proven by the sudden nip of teeth on his neck. Arcann laughed, rolling her off him and onto her back, ending with him on top of her instead since she hadn't released him yet. “I wish you weren't going with them.” 

“I know. But I should be there if he is there. And you know we can't leave Nox unsupervised in a group like that,” he told her pointedly, bending to kiss her. She was smiling when he pulled back again to look down at her, keeping most of his weight off her by balancing above her, hands pressed to the bed on either side of her shoulders. “I don't understand why she even volunteered to go. She hates leaving her studies for almost any reason.”

“Nox has a reason for it, but she won't tell you. Don't bother trying to ask. It'll just make her even happier to keep it from you if she knows you are curious.” Selirah made an exasperated face, running her fingers idly over his right arm, tracing the curve of the muscles beneath the skin. “Let her keep her secrets. She'll do her job well enough, regardless. Arcann..” She hesitated, looking up at him, and Arcann saw the uncertainty in her gaze, something new and fractured. A result of Theron's betrayal; of the trust he had destroyed. 

“I promised I would come back, love. I -will- come back.” He saw Selirah nod slowly, but the unease didn't leave her face at his reassurance. He could feel her raw emotions in their bond, filling his thoughts, and he knew she was afraid of losing him as well. “I want to...” Arcann closed his eyes, taking a breath, and tried again. “Seeing that look in your eyes makes me so angry. With him.”

“Theron? I don't have any doubts about you, keella. You know that, don't you?”

“It's not because I think you doubt me. But because he made you afraid of losing the people that you love. I want to make him pay for everything he's damaged. I..” He ducked his head in a frustrated gesture, stretching out alongside her and gathering her in his arms, pulling her body against his until he could feel every inch of her touching him.

“You hate him. I know.. I can feel it when you think of him. That's why I don't want you to go, not just because I don't want to risk you being hurt. What if it's too much for you?” Her fingers stroked over the cropped strands of his hair, sliding down over the nape of his neck. “You should stay. Let them bring him back here.”

“Selirah, I can't hide from every situation that is a little difficult for me, or everything that provokes strong emotion in me. Yes, I hate him. I hate what he did. I hate that he thought anything was worth destroying what the three of us had with each other. And most of all, I hate that he made both of us believe that he loved us, just so he could go behind our backs and betray us. I want to have him in front of me, so he can answer for it to me. He knew what it would do to you, love. And he looked you in the eye and pulled the trigger.”

“Literally,” she said dryly. “I understand how you feel, and I'm not trying to suggest that you hide from your emotions, Arcann. I would be the last person to suggest that. But I don't want you to risk all the progress you've made, not even for this. Finding Theron isn't worth that to me. That's all I want you to understand, that you are important to me. That the work you've done to change your path and your life is important. I know you're strong, and I know you have fought to keep making changes that are the right ones for you, keella. I love you for that, and for so many other things. Don't risk it just for this anger you're feeling.” 

Arcann smiled, his eyes on hers from inches away, his hands tightening gently on Selirah. “I love you too. I'll be careful, Seli. I know it's a risk, and I know you're worried about me. But I need to be there. I can't leave this to the others. Try to understand.” He kissed her, knowing he was going to be late if he stayed in bed for much longer with her, but he couldn't make himself let go and leave her when he could feel her worry washing over him. “There's a good chance we'll get there, and he won't even be there. I'll be home before you know it.” 

“You'd better be.” She frowned at him, and he laughed, a low, gravelly rumble of amusement. “Are you already late?” 

“I will be, if I don't go.” Arcann could feel her withdraw from the link of connection between them, tamping down the fear for him that he knew she was feeling. “Don't do that, love. I know you're worried. I like knowing that you care that I come back safely to you. You don't have to hide it from me.” He let her go, sliding out of bed, her fingers trailing along the line of his jaw, brushing slowly over the scars there as he left her arms. Turning to his locker, he began to dress, hearing her sit up behind him in the bed, knowing she was watching him. 

“You are really beautiful,” Selirah said suddenly, and Arcann glanced over his shoulder, pausing in the midst of fastening his belt, his saber hilt tucked under one arm. “You are. I don't say that enough, but.. I think about it all the time. Every time you look at me, or touch me. I know this isn't the best time to say it.” She laughed, and he clipped his hilt to his belt, coming to her. “I know you have to leave.” He put one knee on the bed, leaning close to her, his hand sliding under her lekku, tilting her head back. “But I wanted you to know. Before you go.”

Arcann looked into her face, and he saw the tiny upward curve of her lips and the satisfied light in her violet eyes. “You know exactly what you're doing,” he accused, and her smile widened a little as he pushed her back onto the bed. One hand lifted the sheet away from her body, peeling it back, and his knee pushed between her legs, spreading them as he stretched out over her. “Lana's going to have a fit. I'm already late.”

“Nox will distract her. Now come here and say goodbye to me properly.” Selirah pulled him down over her, her hands sliding down his back, gliding around the edges of his belt to unfasten it. She tossed it aside impatiently, the saber hilt overbalancing it on the edge of the bed. There was a heavy thunk as the entire rig tumbled to the floor, and Arcann laughed, his mouth closing over hers, lowering his hips over hers. His hand, still at the back of her neck, moved to the front, fingers closing lightly around her throat, tilting her face up to meet his kiss, and she shivered under him at the sensation. She bit his lip, and he felt a jolt of pleasure, his hands guiding her legs up and around his hips before unfastening his pants, pushing them impatiently down. “I meant what I said, though.. you are beautiful, keella. I could look at you forever.”

“I don't know what it is that you see when you look at me,” he said seriously, his voice a low, pleased rumble of sound against her mouth. “But I believe you, Seli.” Her hips lifted against his, eagerly, and Arcann closed his eyes momentarily at the feeling of her pressing against his thickening cock, pushing forward to let it glide against her slick core. Selirah's hands touched his hips, her fingers sliding to the small of his back. Her body arched under his, and he leaned down, sliding his arms under her back and shoulders, lifting her to straddle his thighs, lowering her onto him until he could feel the tip of his cock nudge against her before he let her slide down further. Selirah's eyes filled with pleasure, half-lidded, and he watched her face as he felt himself fill her inch by excruciatingly slow inch until her hips were settled firmly against his, their bodies joined together. 

Arcann's hands glided down the sleek curve of her back to cup her rear, supporting her weight with his hands so he could lift her and control each thrust. Selirah's arms twined around his shoulders, and he saw her bite her lip, her groan of pleasure muffled by it as her hips snapped forward against his, grinding teasingly at the apex of the thrust. Holding her against him, Arcann leaned forward to kiss her, and her lips met his, parting to tease his lips with her tongue. He could feel her desire and love flooding their bond, filling his thoughts, and he opened himself to her as well, letting her know how much he wanted her. 

Lost in the shared sensation, they both closed their eyes, unable to bear the added sensory input of sight. Arcann held her easily in his hands, guiding her hips over him, letting her feelings wash over him, until he couldn't keep the rhythm any longer. Leaning forward, he moved one hand further up her back, supporting her weight as he laid her down on her back on the bed, looking down at Selirah, watching her lekku slip over her shoulders, the long, slender length of them framing the curve of her breasts. Bringing his hand to her thigh, Arcann guided her knee up higher, the other leg still twined around his hips, and drove into her harder, more roughly as his control left him. She arched to meet his thrusts eagerly, breathless cries of pleasure escaping her lips, and wrapped up in each other's emotions, each feeling what the other felt, he followed her over the edge into climax within moments. The ecstasy of release was blinding, locking both of their minds together in an intimacy far beyond what their bodies could experience alone.

For several more minutes, Arcann could hardly separate himself from Selirah's emotions with the bond this tightly entwined between them, and truthfully he had no desire to even try. Everything that she was, in these moments, was open to him. There were no barriers between them, and everything was shared. It was a painful level of intimacy, but with no secrets, nothing that he saw or felt was a surprise. But he could feel the loss lingering deep in her mind, the grief that she felt alone in dealing with, and it made him feel guilty for his relentless anger. It'd taken on such a life of its own now that he hardly knew what he would do when he finally saw Theron again, and it was obvious that Selirah feared that same moment, if for different reasons. 

She lay in his arms, half-asleep, her fingers lightly caressing his skin. Selirah had never balked at his scars, and she had never treated him poorly or ignored him, like so many people here. He deserved their hatred and anger – he would never deny that or pretend otherwise. But her willingness to accept him had been a welcome and unexpected surprise. Arcann kissed her, watching her eyes open fully and focus on his face when he drew back. “I have to go, love. Was that enough of a proper goodbye to suit you? Or should I stay later still?” he offered lightly, and she smiled in response.

“I want to tell you to stay. But I know you have to go, so I won't distract you again.” In direct opposition to her claims, Selirah pulled away from him, stretching luxuriously. Arcann's eyes dropped down over her body, and she laughed, swatting his hand when he reached for her again. “Go, keella, or they will come for you even here. I mean it.. be careful. Come back to me. No unnecessary risks.”

“I will be careful, Seli. And keep Quinn near while I am away. We still don't know if Theron had any accomplices or people planted here, and I need to know that you are safe from harm, too.” He rose and dressed again, pulling up his rumpled pants and finding the discarded belt, half-buried under the bed and some fallen blankets. Selirah sat up, and he bent to kiss her, lingering over it despite the ever-increasing lateness of his departure, feeling even more reluctant to leave her behind. “Let Quinn keep you company. I don't want you alone here, brooding over everything that is troubling you.”

“Yes, yes. I will,” Selirah told him, a thread of exasperation in her voice that was belied by the affection in her eyes as she watched him from the rumpled sheets. “I love you, Arcann.”

“I love you, too. Don't worry. Everything will be fine.”

“I hope you're right.”

**Odessen, Shuttle Pad:**

“We don't NEED you, Lyorek!” Nox's sweetly cultivated timbre suffered somewhat when delivered at volume, and she was only barely not shouting. Arcann couldn't even -see- her when he approached the argument outside the shuttle; Lyorek's far taller frame and black robes blocked out most of her, and an exasperated Lana blocked out the rest. “And Lana, this is not the time to talk about whatever is bothering you. I'm certain it can wait.”

“I don't care if YOU need me to come with the team,” Lyorek returned, his temper clearly far more roused than Arcann had ever seen it. Gelena stood in the door of the shuttle, leaning against the wall, a toothpick stuck between her lips that she was chewing on the end of while eavesdropping unashamedly. Alyxia came down the ramp and picked up a few smaller crates of supplies, carrying them back inside without intervening or even seeming to notice the argument going on outside. “I was supposed to go, and you just pushed me out. You keep telling me to get more combat experience, and then when a chance to do it arises..”

“Oh, for kriff's sake, stop whining.” Nox shoved her gloved hands between Lyorek's shoulder and Lana's, and pushed them apart far enough that she could squeeze through. “Arcann, only you could get away with being so incredibly late, but I'm sure we can blame Selirah for that, hmm?” The charm mask was firmly back in place when she spoke to him, but Arcann caught the venomous look she gave Lyorek and Lana both as she swept past them. “Everyone who is -going- is ready,” the Inquisitor added, and Lyorek made a rude sound from behind her. 

“Lyo, I know it's irritating. Don't give her what she wants,” Arcann said coolly, ignoring the indignant look on Nox's face. “Stay here, keep up with your spars, help Jaxan with his, and keep a watch over Selirah. I'll make certain you're not excluded the next time, regardless of what Nox wants to do.” 

She glared at him irritably, but in the time it took for Nox to put together a retort, Arcann was already inside the shuttle and talking to Gelena as they headed for the cockpit together. “As if you'd be any use in protecting Selirah,” she told the Zabrak nastily, giving Lyorek a derisive look. “Anyone strong enough to kill her would easily make chopped gorak chunks out of you ten times over.” He turned his back on her, stalking away up the ramp. Lana's hand on her shoulder brought Nox around like an attacking predator, and the adviser pulled the hand back hastily. But the moment that Lyorek left the shuttle boarding zone, his back stiff in anger, her body language changed drastically, shoulders slumping.

“You didn't need to be so hard on him, Mel,” Lana spoke into the silence, her face showing nothing but exhaustion and frustration. “He wants to help, and he has no idea why you removed him from the mission.”

“I know, Lana. But he has to stay here. He'll get over being upset with me.. very quickly, in fact, if his sunshine and flowers Jedi has anything to say about it. I couldn't see every detail the other night. But I know that he had to stay behind, and I had to go.” Nox shrugged, tucking a long lock of blonde hair back into the heavy mass of braids gathered at the nape of her neck. “The vision was clear on that much.”

“Isn't there anything else you can tell me? Are -you- going to be safe?” Lana glanced around, but no one was nearby. Their relationship was difficult to define, and unstructured, and that was solely due to Nox. She was cagey about affection in public, kept her own quarters still, and was so reticent to talk about her feelings even in private that after all these years, sometimes Lana wondered if the Inquisitor had the same emotional bond with her that she felt for Nox. It was lucky enough that she'd gotten away with using part of Nox's actual name without remark.. pushing it seemed like a bad idea. But she wanted a real farewell, for once. “Because I'm worried about you. You know that.”

Nox smiled, her blue eyes widening disingenuously. “Are you? Why, how sweet of you, Lana,” she teased. Her gloved hand found Lana's, and held it for a moment. “I couldn't see more. I told you everything that I could about the vision. Just trust me and believe that I need to be there. It's for the best.” She leaned up on her toes, and kissed Lana. It was brief, and very light, but it was a kiss, and Lana smiled despite herself, some of the worry on her face easing. “Don't let the place fall down while we're gone.”

“I'll do my best,” Lana promised. She raised a hand in a farewell wave. “May the force ever serve you.” 

“We'll need all the help we can get.” Nine's cool voice spoke up suddenly from behind Lana, and the adviser spun to face the agent, surprised at the other woman's silent approach. “Shan knows we're coming, I'm sure. But we'll try to get him in custody. Make sure the medics take good care of Twelve, Lord Beniko.”

“They will, absolutely. It's just Lana, Cipher Nine. I don't care for titles.” 

“Of course, Lord Beniko,” Nine answered with placid disinterest, moving past her towards the shuttle. The ramp pulled up behind the agent, and the door closed as the engines roared into full life. It lifted into the clear sky a few seconds later, rising smoothly out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter exactingly planned out and this is -not- how my plan went, but apparently it -was- Seli and Arcann's plan. 
> 
> I also blame Melissa a little bit, and she knows why. ;)


	100. Mask Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 100!
> 
> Selirah tries to distract herself from her worries.
> 
> The team arrives, and promptly encounters some resistance.
> 
> Theron is found, but it almost goes sideways when Arcann goes off-mission.
> 
> Alyxia has no time for Theron's nonsense.
> 
> Lana needs a vacation, and some caf.

**Odessen:**

Quinn found Selirah alone, sitting on the floor in the throne room, the plasteel beneath her and dirctly in front of her providing a clear view of the beautiful, rugged landscape of Odessen. He hung back for a moment, watching her silently even though he knew she was aware of his presence, letting his gaze be filled with the sight of her. She wore black and gold today, the Alliance's colors, with an armored tunic and gloves over tight black breeches that were neatly tucked into thigh-high, reinforced boots. Her lightsaber hilt hung in midair, hovering over the palm of her hand, and it spun slowly on its axis, rotating in idle, slow circles as she stared out into the sky. 

“Malavai,” she said into the silence, her voice pitched quietly enough that he approached, not wanting to miss any of her words. “Do you remember the first time we attended the opera together in Kaas City?”

There was no context for her question that would give him a clue as to what she was interested in discussing, but Quinn chose to take it at face value. “Of course. In great detail. You looked.. magnificent. And when I look back at it now, were obviously crushingly bored during the entire performance,” he observed dryly, coming to a stop a short distance behind her.

Her lekku tips twitched slightly in reaction, and he could hear the smile in her voice, even though she had yet to turn to look at him. “You are, as always, a difficult man to fool. But I still enjoyed the evening.” The saber hilt dropped into her hand, and Selirah clipped it to her belt, her gaze remaining on the view beyond the window.

“I can't imagine why. You found it tedious, and it was absolutely not something that was at all to your taste. And yet you proceeded to attend fifteen more performances with me every time we were on Dromund Kaas, without a single complaint or fidget. I understood it later to be an act of affection for me and something that you knew I loved, but.. that first time, you could have simply told me that you hated it, and I would never have asked you to endure it again,” Quinn reasoned, puzzlement clear in his voice and expression. 

Selirah glanced over her shoulder at him, and her violet eyes glimmered with amusement. “If you could have seen what I had that night, you would never have wondered, Malavai. I had never seen you look so animated. You explained the libretto to me so patiently, and with so much spirit and passion.” Rising to her feet, the Twi'lek turned back to the window, and Quinn approached her, his gloved hands touching her elbows and sliding down her forearms to take her hands. He wrapped his arms around her, still holding her hands in his, and felt her lean back against him, the curves of her lekku pressed against his chest. “You were transcendent in your pleasure, and I wanted to see that side of you again at any cost. Even if it meant sitting through more performances. The price of a private box was a small one to pay when compared to the enjoyment of watching my stoic Quinn emerging wholesale from his self-imposed shell. Your passion was infectious, boundless. I saw who you really were that day, and it changed everything that I had believed about you.”

Quinn laid his cheek against the top of her head, feeling the warmth of her skin, and smelling the sweet scent of her kibo flower oil. “If I may ask, what made you think of this particular memory? It is a well-loved one for me, and I never fully understood why you chose to subject yourself to so much opera just for me...” he asked, his voice trailing off.

“There is nothing 'just' about you, Malavai. There never has been, and you should know that by now. I'm not sure why that particular thought was on my mind, truth be told. I suppose I wanted something to think about that was pleasant. A good memory, about a happier time, when we were still new to each other, and learning about one another. Years pass, and misunderstandings and mistakes and absences tarnish all the shine of the new and it becomes something different.” Selirah turned around in his arms, her hands sliding up over his chest, fingers tracing the the insignia on his uniform. “Something more complete. Deeper and more full despite the scars on the surface. But I still love to think of you at that first opera, talking to me so excitedly, as if I were just a woman you were enjoying taking on a date, and not.. who I was. It was the first time you'd ever spoken to me so informally, and it was the first time you called me by my name. It was an unexpected feeling for me, and I treasure it. And you.” 

Color rose in Quinn's pale cheeks, flushing the skin with pink in a becoming way. His eyes were even more arresting in that setting, and she smiled at the pleased light in the rich blue gaze. “I am always more than a little sorry that we lost so many years apart. All of that time, when we could have been building memories together. But we are here now, and I'm grateful that I was given the opportunity to see you again on Iokath.” His eyes clouded, lips and jaw tightening as he glanced over her head into the wild forested view beyond. “I wish I had known more of what was happening earlier, and could have done something to prevent this situation from happening with Agent Shan.” 

Selirah brought a hand up, cupping it against his cheek, gently tilting his chin downwards until his eyes were back upon her face. “Malavai, there is nothing that you or anyone else could have done. We will find him, and we'll discover what was behind it all. There is no room for doubt. You must believe me,” she told him firmly. “He will be brought to justice and we will recover somehow from this.”

Quinn watched her gravely, then bent to kiss her lips. The touch was all too brief, but sweet, and there was a considering look in the midnight blue eyes when he withdrew. “You don't have to do that with me, Selirah,” he said in gentle reproach.

“Do what?”

“Pretend. Be the fearless Commander of the Eternal Alliance.” Her shoulders drooped, and he ran his fingers gently over her tchun, stroking the sensitive lek until she began to relax in response to the touch, and looked up at him again. “Selirah, you are waiting here to hear if they've found Theron. He was the only stability in your life for years. He was waiting for you when Lana found you again. You love him, you trusted him, and in return, he stabbed you in the back. If they find him, you'll have to act against someone that you have slept next to for years. You can put the mask back on then, because you'll need it to make it through,” Quinn told her patiently. “But don't wear it with me. Not ever with me.” 

Selirah slid her arms around his waist, her cheek resting against his chest, feeling his arms go around her and hold her. There was not much time before the team would land, and she knew she would not be able to do much else until she knew what they'd found, if anything, and that Arcann was safe. She could sit alone, in the throne she'd never been certain that she even wanted, and the weight of a job that was taking more and more away from her every day. Or she could let Quinn take back the place he had stood in for so long, and let him take some of that weight off her shoulders. “You're right, Malavai. I'm sorry,” she said simply. “I do need to let myself lean on you more often. It's not as if I didn't already know perfectly well that you can handle it. I don't want to make it uncomfortable for you, or make you feel like I'm just waiting for Theron so I can push you away. That won't happen.”

“I don't feel that way. I know it's likely to be complicated, but that's the reality that I took on when I transferred to your service on Balmorra. You've never been boring, or done the expected, and I know how much you enjoy keeping me off-balance anyway.” Quinn smiled, a slow, warm expression that softened his cool, patrician features, and when Selirah glanced up at him, he dropped a kiss on her forehead, just below the edges of her headband. “I know the team is landing soon. Do you want me to go? Give you some time on your own until you get the update?”

“No, don't go. Stay with me.” Selirah turned her gaze back outside the window. “I want to talk about things that have nothing to do with what is coming. And I don't want to be alone.”

“Then that's what we'll do.”

**Hyperspace, En Route to Undisclosed Planet:**

“I don't think we could have found a worse group of people to travel with if we'd tried,” Nox observed, stalking into the cockpit and high-handedly appropriating the co-pilot seat next to Gelena. The captain snorted in amusement, but could hardly argue against the obvious truth of the comment. Arcann wasn't enormously chatty with many other people at the best of times, though that was understandable since many people still hadn't warmed up to him despite everything he'd done to try to fit in with the Alliance forces. But when added to the immensely taciturn Alyxia and the equally silent Nine, the flight so far had been incredibly dull for both of the other two members of the team. 

“They're all just sitting back there -not- looking at each other, I'm sure,” Gelena replied, her boots propped up on the console, mere millimeters away from several vital control modules, a point that didn't seem to trouble her in the least. The fact that she was also drinking whiskey while waiting to drop out of hyperspace was probably the biggest red flag, but Nox didn't even give the drink a second glance. This was not the first time she'd had Gelena as a pilot, and likely wouldn't be the last. Unless they crashed and died, which the Corellian woman would just blame on someone else on the team anyway as they perished.

“That's … exactly what's happening. It was so incredibly tiresome that I had to leave, and I translate ancient tablets for a living. My tolerance for tedium is -legendary-.” Nox pushed her hood back, gloved fingers digging under the weight of her tawny hair, rubbing her scalp and the back of her neck. “Stay within easy range after we land. I'm not sure what we're going to be walking into, but I know that we may very well need a way to get off planet quickly.”

Gelena glanced at the small Inquisitor in the opposite chair, her pale brows arching in curiosity. “You know something that the rest of us don't?” 

Nox shook her head in negation, then nodded in a confusing combination of responses. “No, and yes. It's not something that I can easily explain. But we will not be able to take the traitor by surprise, regardless. The others know that already, but..” She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her silk-clad fingers, frowning, blue eyes troubled. “I believe that I have it all under sufficient control.”

“But you're not sure.”

“One can never be completely certain, Captain. But when I call for you... I need you to be ready.” 

Gelena gave her a cocky wink, shifting her booted foot a quarter inch to the right and tapping a console switch as the ship dropped from hyperspace, sending the controls back to her. She swung her long legs down, settling in to bring the ship down as the planet came into view. “I'll be ready. I just wish I knew what I needed to be ready -for-, Darth Nox.”

Nox smiled, and Gelena could see the exhaustion in her face, her large eyes bearing visible dark circles beneath them. “So do I. The force does not always serve willingly, Captain, and it is fighting my grip. Something is wrong with Theron Shan, and I mean to find out what it is, one way or another.” She pushed off the arms of the chair, getting to her feet, and disappeared through the doorway into the body of the shuttle, her dark robes swishing around small booted feet.

Gelena brought the shuttle down lightly, as close as she dared to the ping for the tracker. “We are outside easy scanning range, but only just. I'm going to have to move it, if you believe he knows we are coming,” she told the team, coming out into the main shuttle space. The ramp slid down, and she watched them settling their gear. Only the two force-users were patiently waiting, with nothing to do; their weapons were always with them. Alyxia and Nine were bickering lightly over who was going to take which extra sidearm, but they both finished arming quickly, and bristling with weaponry, headed down the ramp together. 

“Stay off the ground and away from here until we call, Captain. It is safest for you if you are not a stationary target, and can't be boarded easily. We'll manage,” Nox stated firmly, and Arcann nodded in agreement, heading down to join the others. “Monitor comms.” 

Nine trailed behind, watching the rear as they headed out. Alyxia was on point, following the ping, her heavily armed form stalking through the brush, at times barely visible. Nox was a short distance bethind the Mandalorian, with Arcann following. He could hear Nine's low voice occasionally, but only the audible whisper of sound, not anything over her comm unit. Glancing back over his shoulder at her, he caught her eye, and she tightened her jaw defensively, shifting her rifle from over her shoulder to a firing position. “Sorry. I'm used to Twelve. He talks to me,” she said, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “It's habit. I complain, he makes fun of me.”

Arcann tapped the comm with one finger. “You could just use the comm, talk to everyone. I'm sure Nox would be happy to make fun of you.”

“I absolutely would. For the cause.” Nox's voice came out of nowhere, and she appeared suddenly between the two of them, as if she'd been there all along. Arcann gave her an annoyed glance, stalking off through the trees towards Alyxia's distantly bobbing helmet. “I don't think he can do that,” the Inquisitor confided in a loud aside to the agent, a sly look in her too-innocent blue eyes. “Veil himself from view. The grunts usually can't, not easily.” She smiled, falling in alongside Nine. “I've already mentioned this to Aly, and I'll tell you too. He's not going to handle it well, if we find the traitor. We have to get him back alive. So watch him. I can feel the anger seething off him like a miasma.”

“I'm not going to shoot your Empress' royal boyfriend, if that's what you're implying,” Nine replied dryly, glancing down at the smaller blonde woman keeping pace with her. “Even if he's busy murdering Shan. Wouldn't be much of a loss anyway if he succeeded, given the reason we're here in the first place, Darth Nox.”

“I feel confident that you could shoot him in a relatively harmless location. And you may not need to do anything. I just want to make sure that I don't have to do everything myself, if he should.. forget himself for any reason. We've all been given our orders and have to see them through, no matter how we feel personally about them. Theron Shan is brought back alive for questioning. The Empress was quite clear on her wishes for that outcome.” She folded her small, gloved hands behind her back, her robes sliding over the grass and swirling past reaching branches without snagging, the rich fabrics whispering with her movements. “I'm sure an agent knows perfectly how to do exactly what a Sith says, and what comes of -not- doing it.”

Nine's lips tightened, her storm-grey eyes fixed stonily on the path ahead and the visible lines of sight. “Yes. They do.”

“I assumed as much. For the record, I had nothing to do with Imperial Intelligence, in any of its iterations. That wasn't my sphere.” 

“If you had, I would have remembered,” Nine said coldly. “I have nothing against you personally, Darth Nox. But I am not unaware of your position on relevant non-force sensitive training standards and the treatment of assets, either.”

“Perfect. We understand each other. Do your job, I'll do mine, and we'll bring him back and send you on your way with your partner in tow. Everyone will be happy. Except Theron Shan.” Nox gave the agent a wide, amused smile, and bounced ahead, trailing Arcann through the rough path Alyxia was plowing through the thick underbrush. 

_Target ahead. Only a few guards on duty. Wait. Gonna knock on the door and see who answers._

Alyxia's voice came over the comm with her usual mission-standard terse delivery. Her jetpack ignited a few moments later, lifting her into the air above the scrubby trees. She vanished into the canopy, and they could hear the sound of her progress fading into the distance, propelling her over the length of a long, low building that lay among the trees. 

Arcann leaned against a tree with one shoulder, and Nox mirrored him on the other side, looking like a darker, smaller shadow of his white and grey armor. “Why did you come, Nox?”

“Lyorek was not ready.”

He made a rude sound, glancing at her, his sky-blue eyes narrowed. “That's not true. He's made immense improvements in combat technique, and you know that as well as I do. I've seen you watching the progress in his spars.”

Her gloved hands pulled her hood further forward in a pointed gesture, her face mostly lost to view inside the shadowed cowl. “Does it matter? You don't have to trust me, and I know you don't. But believe it or not, I have always thought you were a better match with her.”

“Yes, I know. You don't like the force-blind. Wouldn't that exclude Major Quinn as well? Yet you seem perfectly content to champion him when it suits you,” Arcann pointed out, his voice a low, bemused rumble. Nine passed by them, moving to find some cover and higher ground, seemingly disinterested in joining in the conversation. 

“No. He knows his place,” Nox answered unapologetically, her hooded face finally turning towards him. The only thing easily visible was her lips, but she wasn't smiling. She shrugged. “You are obviously superior, as am I, but Quinn is talented, driven, intelligent. He has nothing to prove, and we're not out here on a planet that barely qualifies for the name trying to hunt -him- down for a betrayal. That dubious honor belongs to Theron.”

Arcann couldn't find a response to that for a moment, so he didn't try. He folded his arms across his chest, shifting his weight to a more comfortable position, trying to ignore the swelling anger that Nox's words had woken in his thoughts. A muffled boom came from the direction of the building, then a much larger explosion followed seconds later.

_I think I broke the doors._

Alyxia's dry commentary broke in, and Nine spoke up as well, her voice low and calm. “Droid guards. Four. Six. Several human guards too. Main target not in sight, yet.” Her gun was the first to shatter the relative quiet. One shot. Two. Three. “Make that three droid guards, but more are coming. I -can- do it all myself, if you two are just going to hold up that tree.”

“Wait. Is that an option?” Nox asked over the comm, accompanied by a muffled laugh from Alyxia, and followed by another explosion from the other end of the building. “No one told me that I didn't have to actually -exert- myself.”

“It is not an option, Nox,” Arcann replied. He was already in motion, and though he knew that Nox wasn't entirely serious, it did occur to him to wonder how they would do if she actually just sat and watched. “You are always boasting about your combat skill and how much better you are than Lyorek. Let's see it.” When he came out of the brush, the forces defending the door were facing Nine's position or the smoking ruin of the back half of the building they'd emerged from. Alyxia was firing incendiary rounds into the groups of droids left standing on her end of the building, and he could still hear her chuckling over the comm as she shot a second missile into the already crumbling building's lower floor. 

Nine's gun fired twice more, and two of the guards nearest to him went down like marionettes with their strings cut, tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Arcann felt the warmth of blood hit his face, but he ignored it, his blade igniting in a flare of gold. Nox was nowhere to be seen as he cut down the guard bringing his blaster around to bear, and he caught one of the droids on his backswing, lopping its head off and finishing by neatly removing its arms. One of the human guards rushed him, a big, heavily built soldier who reminded him physically of Pierce. Arcann simply reached out with his cybernetic hand and caught the man by the throat as he tried to close with him, exerting enough force strength to easily throw the man away from him as if he weighed nothing at all. The soldier tumbled through the air, shock written on his coarse features as he hit the ground meters away, skidding on his back through the dirt. 

Before he turned away, Arcann saw a small, black-clad body armed with a crimson-bladed saberstaff appear as if from nowhere, straddling the fallen soldier. Darth Nox stretched out one small, gloved hand towards the disoriented guard's head, and purple lightning crackled from her fingers, electrocuting him. His body seized immediately, back arching to the point of snapping, and he screamed so loudly that for a moment every other guard around Arcann came to a halt, looking towards their unlucky friend as the Inquisitor gleefully drew out his death. Finally one of them broke out of the horror that had gripped them and fired their blaster at her exposed back. Nox's saber easily intercepted the bolt as it sped towards her back, and she turned away from her still-smoking victim to face the new threat. 

Engaged with his own opponents, Nine's shots cracking past him to slow or stop the reinforcements from overpowering him, Arcann still felt a reluctant admiration for Nox's fearless tactics. She was barely armored, clad in lightly reinforced robes and breeches, with high knee boots that were set with flexible, impact-proof panels to defend her legs. But her sheer speed and ability to vanish and reappear at will made her nearly impossible to touch for the slower, force-blind soldiers and faster but still ungifted droids. Several times the Inquisitor would seem to disappear, only to reappear seconds later behind an opponent. She gutted some with her blade, sometimes cutting through several at once, snapped necks, and then was gone again like smoke. 

_Target acquired, main door. Watch your six, Arcann._

Alyxia's warning made him drop to a crouch as several blaster bolts ripped through the air in the place he'd been standing a moment earlier. He saw Nox flash past him, her blades a blur of motion, clearing the area around him in a violently beautiful dance. Rising, he spun to face the door, backing up and catching his breath. Theron stood in the doorway, a phalanx of heavy battle droids moving out ahead of him, spreading out in an arc. Guards flanked him, and Arcann felt his anger stir into life, the coals fanning into the roar of flames at the expression on the traitorous agent's face, the gloating smile that he wore. 

Nox barely looked at Theron, her blue eyes moving to Arcann's face. She was close enough to feel his hatred, and that his eyes looked different, changed. After her meditation had provided the vision to her several nights ago, she'd sat in the dark, telling Lana about the flashes of insight she'd seen in the force. _"I saw Arcann standing, facing Theron.. I could feel his rage overwhelm his reason. They fought each other, and I saw Theron shoot Arcann, and Arcann stab Theron. I saw myself healing him, pulling him back from death, and I knew that Lyorek would not be able to do the same thing that I could do. I have to be there. If Lyorek is there, Arcann dies killing Theron, and we learn nothing. Everything crumbles. We will have failed, done all of this for nothing."_ She remembered Lana asking what more she had seen.. Nox had looked the other woman in the eye, and claimed there was nothing else. 

It wasn't exactly the truth, but she hadn't been able to say the words to Lana. Hadn't really even wanted to say them out loud to herself. 

Arcann moved, and Nox snarled, “Cover him!” as she drew the force around herself, masking herself from view. The war droids opened fire, and Alyxia's heavily armored form dropped down where Nox had been a moment before. She hit the ground and went to one knee, firing both heavily modified blasters into the two droids in front of her, and Nine's covering fire laid a line of shots down that had to have come from a different weapon than her sniper rifle. The shots came far faster, and the agent barked orders over the comms, telling the hunter and Inquisitor where to shore up. Arcann was clearly single-minded in his goal to get to Theron, and the women shifted their focus to keeping him protected enough to let him reach the other man in one piece. 

“Arcann! Wait for cover!” Nine's shout was ignored, and she cursed inventively into the channel. Alyxia, clearly not one to be outdone, joined in in Mando'a, and blew up two of the droids before igniting another with a flamethrower blast. Nox spun into sight, tumbling to the ground with a smoking blaster burn in her shoulder, spitting something incomprehensible but clearly vulgar as she got to her feet.

Nox could see Arcann's blade flash down with brutal strength, and Theron flung himself out of the way, firing defensively with both blasters at the infuriated prince. Her eyes narrowed, and she disappeared – or she started to, but the wound in her shoulder yanked at her focus and she lost the force shroud's concealment, racing after the two men. Arcann staggered from a pair of well-aimed shots that struck him in the side and chest, and Nox spun in front of him to defend him, her saber intercepting a third shot that would have likely taken him in the throat. Arcann swept her aside with one arm, and she saw his face, twisted with rage, all his attention focused only on Theron. He spun, brutally kicking the lighter-built man, a burst of strength behind the attack. Theron flew back against the wall of the building, slamming into it hard enough to disorient him and dislodge a chunk of stone that nearly struck him as it tumbled to the ground. He struggled to get to his feet and run, but Arcann was there too quickly, his metallic hand closing on Theron's throat. Feet kicking, Theron hung in his grip as the prince lifted him, throttling mercilessly without even using the force to do it. Nox reached out with the force, trying to pry Arcann's fingers off Theron's rapidly purpling neck, but met an implacable shield of willpower that she couldn't break through. 

“Aly, help me... Arcann, stop, you're killing him!” Nox gave up and simply tried to physically stop him, her small hands pulling ineffectually at his cybernetic arm. She could see Theron's face, dark red, choking, and Arcann's eyes were a molten, feral gold. 

“Yes, I am,” the prince answered, his voice a deep, satisfied growl of sound. “She will understand. He deserves it.” Alyxia's armored weight landed on his back without warning, and she wrenched him away violently with the practiced toss of someone who has broken up far too many bar fights, or more specifically, someone who was Mandalorian. Theron was torn free of the viciously tightening grip as Arcann was ripped away from him, and he fell to his hands and knees then gagged and threw up almost immediately, gasping for breath and wheezing desperately. 

Nox was on Theron the moment he hit the ground, and she shocked him, arcing the power through his body until he slumped. She knelt beside him, hearing the sound of rifle shots, blasters, the hum of Arcann's saber, but she ignored it all and closed her eyes as she sank into the force, her hands touching Theron's temples. It was not -easy- to force her way into his mind, but.. it was not as hard as it should have been. His thought pattern was disordered. Counterfeit. It felt.. masked. The pathways she had traveled once before, the familiar rhythm of Theron's thoughts, the memory rub's traces; none of them were present. This was not the neatly ordered mind of a Jedi trained SIS agent. This was not -Theron's- mind at all. Captured by the implications of this magnitude of replacement, Nox forced her way further into the stranger's thoughts, searching for more information, brutally rifling through his thoughts without caution.

Alyxia finally got Arcann down, practically sitting on him to keep him from going after Theron again. He was struggling, consumed with his rage, but her grip on his arm, twisted up behind his back, kept him from getting enough leverage to dislodge her. The animalistic, predatory look in his eyes was chilling, and she dug her knee more firmly into the small of his back, glancing over at the Inquisitor. She had no idea what the woman was doing, but.... 

_Nine, blade!_

Correcting her sightline hastily, Nine brought her sight to bear on Theron as he pulled a vibroblade from his boot. She fired, and his arm swung up, burying the blade into Nox's side. Theron rolled out from under her as the Sith made a startled sound and fell sideways, the vibroblade handle caught beneath her slight form. Nine fired again, and his body jerked with impact when the shot connected with his right shoulder, staggering him, but he got off another shot with his blaster, this one striking Alyxia's armor. She cursed, losing her balance and grip on the prince, and Arcann surged out from underneath her like an attacking vorantikus and arrowed straight towards Theron again.

Nine hesitated, because any shot she took now was as likely to hit one of the team as it was the target, and the goal was to bring him back alive, not decoratively perforated and bleeding out. She slung the rifle over her back and sprinted towards the fight, but she knew she was already too late. Arcann's blade came down in an overhead strike, and neatly sheared off part of Theron's implants, burning his face horrifically in the process and forcing a scream from the man as the blade cut deeply into his shoulder. There was a ripple, some kind of field deactivating as his implants failed. The prince pulled his saber free, and shifted his grip, ready to impale Theron on it and finish him. 

Theron was tugged suddenly from Arcann's grasp for a second time, Nine's dark-clad body crashing into the wounded traitor at full speed. Both of them sprawled on the ground, and Nine covered him as well as she could, expecting a lightsaber to cut into her at any moment. Pinned under her, she felt Theron squirming to get loose, and heard him fire a shot as she knocked the holdout gun from his hand, twisting his arms behind him painfully. 

When Nine dared to take the risk of looking up, she saw Arcann down on one knee, his hands pressed against his chest and a new, horrifically large wound to the stomach, blood coating his fingers and spilling between the metallic digits of his cybernetic hand. His ashen face was set grimly in his pain, teeth gritted, but his burning gaze was still locked on Theron's prone body beneath Nine. Nox was trying to get up, with Alyxia at her side, assisting her to her feet and over to Arcann. “Lock him down, make sure he's clean of weapons and any devices you can find,” Nox managed, her voice thready and wet-sounding, laced with pain. She had barely begun to try to heal the worst of Arcann's injuries, her blue-eyes half-open and a look of fervent concentration on her face, when she heard the unmistakable sound of reinforcements approaching their position. “Aly..”

“I hear it. More droids. I signaled Gelena, she is nearly here. Is he stable?”

“No, but... I think I bought him some time. I can try to hold them off.” Nox swayed on her feet, her hand going to the blade still buried in her side. “Can't pull this out.. might make it hard to be useful.” Several droids appeared over the hill that Nine had used for her cover fire, but the shuttle had just come into sight and it was clear that the droids were hesitant.. and wisely so.. about engaging the ship. 

“Nine, do you have Theron?” Alyxia turned away, supporting Nox's slumped body on one side, and Arcann's weight on the other. There was no immediate answer, and the hunter guided them up the ramp into the shuttle, settling them carefully in seats. When she got back to the ramp, she saw Theron and Nine locked in a struggle. The Imperial agent punched Theron in the right eye, snapping his head back, and he swung back at her as she drew a blaster, pointing it at his midsection. But the minute she reached for him, he flung himself back and away from her, out of her reach, and ordered the droids to fire. 

Nine hit the ground, and the first volley of shots went over her. Alyxia ran to meet her, helping to provide cover, firing explosive rounds at the droids and flipping a flashbang grenade at Theron's position. He ducked and covered, as did Nine reflexively. But Alyxia stalked right over to him through the blast of light and sound, her visor's opacity darkened to protect her sight. 

Looking up, Theron saw her helmet looming above him, a cocked fist aimed at his face. “Filthy aruetii,” he heard her say, voice metallic through the external speakers, and then the armored fist slammed into his face. Twice.

Nine was waiting in the doorway of the shuttle when Alyxia stalked up the ramp, carrying Theron's limp body over one shoulder. The droids were still firing at the shuttle, but it was clear that they didn't want to hit the body hanging down Alyxia's back, and the bolts pinged off metal and struts, harmlessly missing the Mandalorian. The shuttle rose, lifting into the air, and the hunter dumped the unconscious traitor on the floor, cuffing his arms behind his back. She stood for a moment, then reached up and removed her helmet, pushing back sweat-dampened hair. Unconscious and injured, saber burns stinking of cooked flesh in the open air, their captive lay face up, exposed to her gaze. There was something strange about the way he looked now, after the damage Arcann had done to his implants. Alyxia could see the resemblance to Theron, and it was uncanny, but not exact. Extensive surgery, perhaps, and some kind of technology?

“Can you see it, now?” Nox's voice was weak, and her eyes were barely open, slits of blue beneath her eyelids. Nine knelt beside her, bandaging the Inquisitor's injuries and treating her with kolto and a heavily loaded shot of a numbing agent around the blade still buried in her side. “It's not Theron. I felt it when I touched his mind. He's an impostor, a fake.”

“I see it,” Alyxia answered flatly. “Only makes for more questions. Where is Theron, if this is not him?”

“And who betrayed us, the impostor, or the real Theron?” Nox coughed, blood flecking her lips. “I need to sleep. Tell Lana 'm sorry,” she added, her words slurred and barely audible. The Inquisitor slid sideways towards the floor, and Nine caught her deftly, stretching her out on the bench seat and strapping her carefully down.

Arcann was more alert, and he seemed to have been listening to their conversation, but he said nothing even when Nine came to tend to his blaster wounds. The stomach wound was mostly closed due to Nox's battlefield efforts, but the others were badly burned and would need more expertise than she had to give. She did the best she could for him, and tucked away the supplies in the medical kit after smearing some kolto on a bleeding cut over her left brow, loosening her braids from their tight knot at the back of her head, her fingers rubbing her aching scalp absently. Glancing up at his face, she saw Arcann's gaze fixed on the impostor, gold eyes brimming with frustrated anger and dawning realization. 

Alyxia hauled the impostor to the bulkhead, propping him up against the wall of the shuttle. She crouched comfortably next to him, arms resting on her knees, clearly waiting for him to stir. “Not your fault, you know,” she said suddenly, apropos of nothing. Her head turned, green eyes meeting the prince's shell-shocked looking gaze. “No one's fault.”

“How could we not know?” he said finally, his deep voice faltering, confusion lacing every word. “How long has he been gone? Was this a ploy, leaving a decoy, or... have we somehow not known that Theron wasn't Theron for weeks? Months?” Arcann's expression hardened, and he shook his head slowly. “No. There's no way he could have fooled us for long. It had to be recent, or a trick to keep us from catching him.”

Nine and Alyxia exchanged glances, and Nine dropped her gaze first, unwilling to join in on the discussion. “We'll find out what is going on, Arcann. No point in guessing or speculating,” the Mandalorian replied calmly. 

“I almost killed him.” Arcann's statement was quiet, thoughtful. “We might never have realized what was going on if I had.” 

Nine examined the prince's scarred, dirt-covered face, watching for a sign of emotion that would clarify his meaning. But she saw nothing, just his fixed and predatory gaze locked on the prisoner's bruised and burned visage, so similar to Theron's, and yet the face of a stranger. She didn't know Arcann at all well, not well enough to be exact about her assumptions. 

But something about his icy demeanor and the lack of expression made her think that the only thing he was truly concerned with was that he had failed to kill the impostor. 

**Odessen:**

“You can come closer, Jaxan. I can see you hovering over there.” Lana rubbed her forehead with one hand, looking into the cup of caf on the side of the computer console. Still empty. “If this is about Lyo..”

Jaxan flopped into the chair beside her desk with a steaming cup of caf in his hands, his earnest face a welcome break from the reports she had been reading. “He is not happy at all about Nox.”

Lana smiled dryly at the Jedi, relaxing against the back of her seat and putting the reports out of her mind for the time being. “Very few people are ever happy about Nox, and that's just the way she likes it, I'm afraid. But I do want you to know that there was a reason that she went along instead of Lyorek.. it's just not my explanation to give. It's hers, so it will have to wait until the team returns. With that out of the way, was there anything else you needed, Jaxan?” She shot an envious look at the fresh caf, and Jaxan laughed. 

“I'm sorry to interrupt your work for something so foolish. I just hate seeing Lyorek upset. Take the caf... I'll go grab another cup, and you look like you could use it more than me.”

“That is... very lovely of you, Jaxan. Thank you,” Lana told him sincerely, accepting the cup and taking a sip. The warmth of it reinvigorated her tired thoughts, and she took another few sips, savoring the taste before returning to her work. Everyone was on edge, waiting to hear from the team, and something had been nagging at her thoughts ever since they had left. Nox was always so secretive, and Lana had been pleased when the other woman had chosen to be open about the vision she'd seen. But now.. she was wondering if Nox had held something back. She felt a sense of foreboding, a needling worry that wouldn't go away. Perhaps...

“Lana!” Quinn's voice breaking into her thoughts was unexpected in and of itself, but the fact that he'd managed to make himself call her by name lent a certain urgency that couldn't be denied. “Have you heard anything from the team?”

“Not yet. Why?” Unwilling to put the cup down and risk returning to find the caf cold and unappetizing, Lana drank it hastily, regretting it almost instantly when the hot liquid nearly scalded her tongue. “What's wrong?”

“Selirah nearly collapsed.. we were talking. Everything seemed fine,” Quinn explained, his breathing coming short as if he'd actually run to get here from the upper floor. “Then it seemed like she was looking right through me, and she held her stomach and chest and just folded up like she'd been hit. The moment she could breathe again, she told me to find you and see if they'd contacted you.” 

“I've had nothing from them, not yet, but the timeline is rough at best for the mission. They could be in the middle of a fight for all we know. We'll have to wait until we hear something, if we can't raise them on the shuttle.” Lana frowned, pacing slowly back and forth. “Is she alright?”

Quinn nodded curtly. “She said that it wasn't her. I presume she means that Arcann was injured? I stopped at the medical bay and told them to prepare, just to be safe.”

“That's likely the case, but there's no way of knowing who else is injured, or how bad it is until we hear back. Go back to Selirah, see if she's feeling well enough to come down here. I know it's disorienting for her, when he's hurt with that link between them. She will tell you she is fine, but she'll need your assistance.” There was no need for Lana to tell Quinn twice.. he was halfway to the lift before she'd even finished speaking. 

And before she could even draw a full breath, the holo began to chime with an incoming call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> Aruetii = Traitor (also foreigner/outsider)
> 
> __________________________________________________
> 
> Words can't describe how much I wanted to strangle this chapter for the last few days, but at like four this morning, when I was wrestling with it, I suddenly figured out the part that I was baffled about and everything came together. *laughs* So I haven't slept all night, and I'm exhausted and going to crash for half the day, but it's -done-! 
> 
> (Just the chapter, not the story.) ;)
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me for so long on this story! I appreciate every reader, and every commenter, and am so grateful for the friends who have been great sounding boards, listeners, and helpers when I was ready to throw up my hands in frustration at a difficult chapter. You're all awesome! <3


	101. Colorblind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting is difficult.
> 
> But it's not easier when the waiting is over.

**Odessen War Room:**

“You could sit down and rest, Selirah.” Quinn's offer was half-heartedly offered; he knew she would refuse, like she had the previous times. And as he'd expected, Selirah waved off the idea with one hand as she'd passed him for the fiftieth time in the last half an hour. There'd be a hole in the flooring in no time at this rate, though it was entirely possible that her boots would give out first. Her lekku were moving in uneasy motions, the tips coiling and straightening as she stalked past him again, and Quinn sighed, reaching deep into himself for a store of patience. “Selirah...”

She barely looked at him in response, and he could see something in her face that concerned him. He'd seen her like this, of course. Many times; more than he could count. It had always been a part of her, and of all the Sith he'd ever seen. But since he'd been reunited with her on Iokath, Quinn had noticed a significant difference in her, one that he felt forced to admit had to be the effect of Theron Shan's influence on her for so many years. Arcann's relationship with her was not the same as Theron's, and he'd noticed that the prince did not seem inclined to disapprove of many of Selirah's decisions, no matter how brutal or callous they were. So logic suggested that the change in her disposition and behavior had not come from the Zakuulan, which left only Theron. Her usual temper and rage had been blunted, reoriented away from the quick trigger that she had possessed in her years among the Sith of the Empire. He'd seen a tempered, measured process to her thinking that had put him in mind of Lana's pragmatism, and had no doubt that the adviser's influence had also cooled his wife's occasionally blistering, frequently volatile moods.

Theron's Republic-minded ideals, however, had absolutely had an effect. Quinn had seen her glance at the agent surreptitiously during negotiations and decision-making, reading his reactions, his expressions, and though it was clear that her decisions were not generally questioned by anyone around her and that she still thought very much like a Sith in most ways, gaining Theron's approval had mattered to her. With Theron's unceremonious defection, Selirah's behavior had altered. Subtly, he admitted. Most would not have seen it at all, yet. But he had seen it, and though Quinn didn't completely understand the nature of the bond between her and the prince, he suspected that her anger and pain had been affecting Arcann as well. And now, whatever had happened there on that distant planet to Arcann was doing something to Selirah as well. The tired, patient look she had worn every day was gone. 

Of course she was worried about Arcann – he'd been injured, and she knew it the instant that he had. Quinn had nearly felt his heart stop when he'd seen Selirah suddenly cease speaking to him mid-sentence, her skin draining of color until she'd paled to a sickly pink shade, one hand to her chest and the other gripping her stomach as she cried out in pain. Then she'd folded up on herself, and he'd caught her before she hit the ground. It was no wonder that they'd kept the nature of their connection as secret as possible; this was something that could have been exploited to manipulate one or both of them quite easily. Quinn was grateful they were the only ones in the room when it'd happened. Selirah had recovered relatively quickly from the shock of feeling Arcann's injuries, but until he was here and she could see with her own eyes that he was going to recover, she was proving to be stubbornly impossible to contain. 

“Selirah,” Quinn tried again, fruitlessly, and finally he simply stepped into her path, forcing her to either walk around him or push him out of the way. Her eyes snapped up to his face, and he could almost feel the pressure of her anger pushing against him where he stood. In moments like this, even someone utterly devoid of the ability to sense the force could feel the sheer power surrounding a force user; it felt like the moments before a storm, when the air pressure shifted and became oppressive and threatening. “Seli.” The nickname did what nothing before had managed, and caught her attention. The violet eyes focused on Quinn's face, and he saw her shoulders lower a fraction, relaxing in response to the familiar address that Arcann and Theron, among others in the Alliance, used for her frequently. “Please sit down. You're wearing a hole in the ground and working yourself up. If you can feel him, I'm sure he can feel your agitation. I know you don't want to add to his distress.”

This tactic worked flawlessly, and Quinn filed it away in his mind as he saw her consider his words and then nod slowly. “You're right. I hadn't thought about that. He's in pain.. I don't want to make it worse, or make him worry about me.” The poorly suppressed anger melted away from her eyes, eliminating the tension in her jaw, and Selirah sank down one of the chairs at a computer terminal nearby, booted feet stretched out in front of herself. “Thank you, Malavai.” 

“Have you any thoughts on the man they are bringing in?” He came to her side, perching lightly on the edge of the computer desk, one gloved hand resting on the surface. Selirah turned her head to the side, her eyes unfocused, distracted. 

“No. There is no reason to assume anything until we've spoken with him. He will not want to tell us anything, whoever he is. If he was willing to give up his entire identity to become someone else, he is unlikely to feel a great deal of self-preservation.”

“That's true. It will be difficult to find leverage to use against him.” 

“Difficult, but not impossible. Everyone has a breaking point, Malavai. Do not doubt that we will discover his,” Selirah replied softly. The menace in the words was distinct and chilling, but Quinn could only feel relief at hearing it. This was the woman he had always known, and there was something comforting in hearing such a sentiment from her after so many measured, neutral decisions since his return to her side. He understood this Selirah much better than the other; the one who had been trying to walk a razor's edge to strike a balance between Republic culture and her own Empire upbringing. 

“I have no doubt at all, on that score or any other where you are concerned. I have seen you come through some very difficult positions..”

“With you by my side,” she interrupted firmly, and Quinn smiled despite himself.

“Yes. With me by your side, where I intend to always stay. But the point remains that I do not doubt your ability to discover what is truly going on with this particular situation, Seli. I only want to express some.. concern.”

Selirah's lips pressed together impatiently, but her tone was still moderately encouraging when she inquired, “Concern over what, precisely?” Or, if not encouraging, she was at least not sounding actively hostile, and Quinn bravely forged forward in light of that fact. 

“I can never know what it is to see the world through your eyes, or with your particular skills. But I saw you before Theron's betrayal, and I see you now. Selirah, I don't want to watch this pain poison you the way my mistake poisoned you. You have people who depend on you, and they need you. Don't try to deal with this alone. Don't push me away, or any of the people that you know you can trust to lean on.”

Her expression didn't give him much idea of what she was thinking, but at least she appeared to be giving his words consideration. When her hand touched his, Quinn glanced down at her fingers, slender and deceptively strong, laid over his gloved fingers, and he let her take his hand into hers. Selirah twined her fingers with his, her violet eyes focused on the joined hands. “I wish,” she began, her voice low and wistful, “that Theron had only betrayed me. I wish that I knew this man they've found was the one at fault solely, and that Theron had nothing to do with it.” One shoulder lifted and fell in an eloquent shrug. “I don't know what to believe, anymore. Or what to do. I'm not even sure which story is easier to deal with; that Theron is innocent, or that he sent this man to throw us off his trail.”

“Neither, I would imagine,” Quinn answered, candidly. “If Theron is innocent, then where is he? It creates an entirely new problem. And if he is not, and this man is a decoy.. we -still- don't know where Theron is, so nothing is solved either way.” Her face fell, and he squeezed her hand. “We'll figure it out, Seli.”

“I have to protect everyone somehow, Malavai. I don't know how I'm going to do that.” The admission was pulled out of the Twi'lek, painfully, as if the words were escaping against her will. He pulled her up out of the chair, drawing her into his arms, and she sank into his embrace. Quinn rested his cheek against the top of her head, wishing that he knew what to say.

One hand stroked over the length of her back, fingers tracing the line of her spine, feeling the curve of her lower back flaring into her hips before sliding back upwards to begin all over again. “You can only do the best that you can, my love. No one can reasonably expect more. I've spent enough time among your people here to know that they realize you are always doing everything possible to keep them safe and protected. They trust you to fight for them, because you always do.”

Selirah's head lifted, and her lavender eyes met his dark blue. “You haven't called me that in such a long time, Malavai. I didn't even realize how very much I had missed it.” Color rose to his pale cheeks, a becoming flush of embarrassed pleasure that made her smile. She leaned in and kissed him, and Quinn's arms tightened around her waist, pulling her in against him firmly. Her eyes closed, and the kiss went from perfunctory and sweet, to passionate and hot in moments. She slipped her fingers into the back of his belt from underneath, hands closing on the stiff leather to hold him closer.

Quinn knew they were both mere moments away from making a rather public spectacle of themselves, and part of him also realized that she was desperately trying to distract herself from all the things she was going to have to deal with soon. It didn't make him want to stop, but in that brief hesitation of thought, she pulled back, and he saw her eyes go distant in the way that he was coming to associate with her link with Arcann. “They are here, aren't they?”

“Yes.” Selirah's attention came back to him for a moment, and she looked genuinely regretful that the moment was gone between them. But he could feel every muscle in her body tense with the desire to go to the prince's side, and so he let her go, and she stepped back away from him, half-turning towards the lift to the upper floor. “Are you coming?”

“No, you should go. I'll tend to the reports here until Lana gets back. Selirah, I hope you know..” Quinn's voice trailed off, and he shook his head. “Never mind. Go and see him.”

“Thank you for understanding. And yes, I do know,” she said, a distracted half-smile curving her lips upward at the corner. “And I love you, too.” She blew a kiss at him with her fingertips, and was gone within seconds, the lift rising until he couldn't see her any longer.

**Odessen, Shuttle Pad:**

Pierce was standing in front of the shuttle ramp speaking with Nine when Selirah arrived, and Lana was at Nox's side as the medics took the Inquisitor. One small, gloved hand rose from the platform she was ensconced upon, and the medics glanced at each other uncertainly before halting, stepping back for privacy at another imperious gesture from their patient. 

“We did our best, but he was injured badly. The impostor, that is. The soldiers have already taken him to a cell to get some more medical care, so he'll be able to be interrogated properly,” Nox said, her voice barely audible. Lana hovered next to her, straightening the thermal warming blanket, her expression patently and obviously worried, but Selirah ignored her adviser's distress, her attention flickering between the injured Inquisitor and the shuttle door. “I protected Arcann as best as I could, but he will need treatment for the injuries that I could not heal. Quinn would be best for that. Perhaps you should have him tended privately in your quarters, rather than the medical bay, since his injuries are not as severe.” Forcing more volume into her words, Nox gave Selirah a significant look, adding, “His eyes are sensitive from a flash grenade. We covered them for him in the shuttle. Keep them covered until you reach your quarters. For his comfort.” 

The lie was obvious, and just as clearly had been intended to be. Selirah met Nox's eyes, and inclined her head in understanding. “Thank you, Nox. You were invaluable to the mission, and I will not forget all that you have done today. Now go. You need medical attention, and that is a priority.” Lana shot her a grateful look, and the medics returned, guiding the injured Nox towards the base. 

Nine stepped aside to allow Selirah to pass, and both she and Pierce fell silent at the Twi'lek's approach. “Pierce, have Major Quinn meet me in my quarters with his medical equipment as soon as he can be spared from his work. Nine, we will need a mission debrief from you. Pierce..”

“I will take the debrief.” Pierce interrupted gruffly. “Go, we've got the other details handled, my lord.”

“Yes, quite. Thank you.” Selirah was through the door before she'd even finished speaking, drawn into the shuttle like a magnet, unable to focus on anything else. She could hear Pierce and Nine talking outside, but the words didn't penetrate the fog filling her thoughts, or the seething anger she could feel from Arcann. The prince was waiting in the corner of the shuttle, the low lights shadowing his face from easy view. She could see the soft cloth wrapped around his eyes, and as she approached, his jaw flexed visibly, his metallic hand opening and closing slowly. The fingers curled into a fist, and stayed closed this time, and his blindfolded face turned towards her unerringly as she sank down beside him. “Nox suggested Quinn treat you in our room. Keella...”

“Don't. Don't tell me that you're disappointed. I know that you are. I know what I did.” His words came roughly, forced from a set, stubborn jaw, his lips tight and the metal of his fingers grinding together. “I almost killed him.”

“I'm not disappointed in you, Arcann. I never would be. I'm just worried for you, and I am afraid I'm the worst person to help.” Selirah looked at his tightly gripped hand, the tension in his shoulders, sensing what lay beneath the blindfold that shielded his eyes from the view of any onlookers, and she moved from the chair to the floor, laying her head on his knee, her hand resting on the opposite knee. Arcann was very still at first, but after a minute or two, she heard his fingers uncurl, the soft metallic sound betraying the movement. The cool material touched her head hesitantly at first due to the blindfold, and then carefully, and he let his fingers trace over her lekku slowly. Selirah felt his emotions start to settle into a more familiar pattern, letting go of his deep-seated fear that she would turn on him or think less of him for what he saw as yet another failure in a long line of mistakes. 

“I'm sorry, love.” The words sounded so defeated that Selirah felt her heart clench painfully in her chest, and she fought the urge to reach out to comfort him. He was very proud, and she understood how hard it was for him to let anyone in when he felt so vulnerable, because it was a weakness that she shared. “I thought that I could handle it. I was so sure... and I know that Nox must have known the truth. She came along because she knew I was going to fail to control my anger at Theron. She saved my life. More than once.” 

“Then I will have to thank her again for making sure that you came back to me, which will make her extremely smug, no doubt. Can you walk, keella?” She stayed where she was for the time being, making no movement to get up before he was ready. Instead, she leaned against his armored boots, her free hand curving around the underside of the knee she was leaning against, feeling Arcann's metal fingers stroke her skin with such care. “Quinn will treat your injuries in our room, and no one will be able to see any changes there. We'll figure out what to do, together.” 

“I.. yes. I can walk.” Arcann lifted his hand from her head, and she lifted her head and turned to catch him starting to reach for the blindfold, so he could see.

“No.. leave it. I'll be right beside you, and I will guide you. If Nox's story about a flash grenade is going to hold, you must leave the blindfold on.” His hand froze at her words, and then dropped back down, and she felt the flood of his shame over his weakness, mingled with the anger that seemed to never quite fully leave him. Selirah got to her feet, and moved to his right side, helping him carefully to his feet and guiding his arm under her lekku so that he could rest some of his weight on her shoulders without hurting her. “No one else need know until you are ready, keella. I promise.” Arcann leaned on her heavily, his gait slow and halting, and as they emerged from the shuttle, she waved away Pierce's aborted movement towards assistance. Nine's cool grey eyes followed them silently, but the agent made no similar move to help. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest, watching their progress as they slowly headed towards the lift. 

It took some time to reach their room, and Selirah fended off any attempts to help her, even though there was no point in denying that she was tiring by the time they passed through the doorway. She slapped the door panel, closing it behind them, and got him up the final few stairs to the bed. Arcann's breathing was rough and pained from the exertion by the time he sat on the edge of the bed, and she knelt to take off his boots, taking them to his storage locker before returning for his scorched, blood spattered armor. As careful as she was, it still hurt him as she removed the heavy, ornate armored tunic, and she touched the scorched holes in it with her fingertips, glancing at the kolto-smeared burns and wounds marking his torso. 

“I can feel you looking. It's not as bad as it looks.” Arcann lay back on the bed, automatically reaching to shift the pillow and sucking in a breath at the pain that shot through him at the movement. Selirah was there before he could try again, settling the pillow more comfortably for him, and he turned his blindfolded face towards her. Her fingers brushed over his jaw softly, thumb tracing the edge of his lower lip. “Can you take it off now?” 

“Yes, just a moment.” She stripped his pants down off his legs, and pulled the blanket up to his waist before sitting down on the edge of the bed. Despite her words, she didn't touch the blindfold at first, and he could almost feel her thoughts spinning, wariness mingling with relief and worry, and fear that was solely -for- him. She hadn't lied; there was no disappointment, no resentment, no anger at him.. again, only for him. The bed shifted as her weight left it, and his head turned as she came to his other side, stretching out against his right side where she usually slept, leaving the other side of the bed open. “Quinn will be here soon. I didn't want to be in the way,” Selirah explained, her fingers working at the knot in the blindfold and lifting it away from his eyes. 

Arcann squinted and blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light in the room, and he turned his face towards her again, expecting her to recoil, to react with revulsion to seeing him like this. To seeing him look the way he'd looked when he'd hurt her, and tried to destroy her and her fledgling Alliance. But she just laid her head on her own pillow and looked directly at him with unflinching regard, bringing a hand up to cup against his scarred cheek. “I can stay here for now, but I'm going to have to come back out eventually. You know what everyone will think, if they see me like this,” he told her flatly.

“We'll deal with that when we come to it. For now, you need to heal, and perhaps we'll see if Master Yariele has any thoughts, if you would like. You are still you, Arcann. But this anger is going to poison you if you don't control it, and Yariele might have a better idea of what to do. We don't even know what the truth is about all of this with Theron, yet.” Selirah watched him considering her words, the orange-rimmed gold of his irises dropping away from her face as he thought. “I'm not going to let anything happen, and I'm not going to let anyone blame you or treat you like this is some kind of mark of shame. This is not your fault.” 

_It's Theron's fault. All of this is Theron's fault._ The thought needled into Selirah's mind unexpectedly, and she felt a surge of resentment that for a moment she suspected had come from Arcann instead of herself. But it wasn't his thought; it was hers, and as that fact sank in, she felt a different type of grief than the loss she'd been feeling since Umbara. The knowledge that she was finally truly angry at Theron felt like the death of something intangible, and the loss of the last few shreds of hope she'd had that somehow, all of this was a mistake that would be simply remedied. 

Now, it just felt final.

“This is Theron's fault,” she heard herself say aloud, and that made it feel real. Arcann's arm tightened sympathetically around her, and she laid her head on the uninjured side of his chest, one hand resting on his waist on the bunched up fabric of the blanket. His cheek pressed against the top of her head, and together they waited for Quinn to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RL is being a pain, and my folks are visiting later this week, but I wanted to finish this and get it out. I've got some short stuff in the works that I'll probably post to Tumblr and may post here too. Anyway, sorry I've slowed down, but I'll try to get back up to a better update schedule once the family visit is over. :)


	102. Don't Deserve You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lana and Nox have a long-overdue conversation.
> 
> Quinn sees things much more clearly than Selirah.

**Medical Bay, Odessen:**

“You will not disturb her.” 

“I'm not going to punch her in the face, Lana. I just want to talk to her. She's doing well, the medics said as much. There's no reason for you to be so..”

“Lyorek, I am not going to tell you again. If you want to talk to her, come back when she is stronger, or wait for her to leave this medical bay. But if you try to trouble her now, while she is recovering, I will put you through that wall.” 

Nox cracked open one eye, looking towards the door where Lana stood, blocking Lyorek from entry. She could not feel the healing wound in her side at the moment, which led her to believe that she must have had a recent dose of pain medication. That also likely accounted for the desire to giggle at the sulky expression on the Zabrak's red and black face as he glared down at Lana; a desire that she had no intention of indulging, when it was so much more entertaining to listen to the adviser protecting her sickbed like a krayt dragon defending its lair.

“This is ridiculous. You can't just.. You know what? Never mind.” Nox could see the triumphant light in Lyorek's red-gold eyes, and she knew he'd decided to come at this obstacle from another angle. “I'll be back later.” The bright eyes flickered over Lana's shoulder, and Nox gave him a cheeky smile from her bed, and the Zabrak scowled as he spun on his heel and left. 

Lana closed the door, and Nox closed her eyes hastily. “Don't bother to pretend. I know you're awake,” Lana said dryly, crossing the room to return to the side of the bed. Her chair there bore obvious signs of a long vigil – a back pillow, a soft throw blanket, a half-gone mug of tea and a plate of buttered toast. The only aspect of the scene that was an interestingly different note was the lack of a datapad. The idea of Lana just.. sitting and not working was a shocking one, and Nox took in the tired expression on the other Sith's face with thoughtful blue eyes. “Were you just listening in?” Lana asked, sinking back into her chair and tucking the blanket over her legs absently. 

“I only caught a bit of it, I promise.” Nox made as if to sit up, or shift her weight, and Lana shook her head sharply, holding up a quelling hand. 

“Don't move, Melisande. Your incision is healing, and there is a lot of delicate surgery work that was performed upon you. I'd rather not go through another few hours of hovering outside this door while I wait to discover if you've lived through one more surgery, if I can avoid it.” The worry in Lana's voice overrode her sarcasm by a significant degree, and the golden eyes that met Nox's blue were full of an emotion that she was not in the least prepared to acknowledge. 

“I must be in trouble to get my name so quickly. Are you angry at me, Lana?” Nox inquired, injecting enough teasing into the words to provoke the other woman into an entirely different set of emotion, one far less intrusive and intimate. At least, that should have been the result, as it so often had been in the past. But Lana didn't rise to the bait this time. Instead, she lifted Nox's left hand off the covers, the slender fingers shrouded as always in the ever present gloves. Her hand traced the shape of the Inquisitor's fingers, tracing over her knuckles and the back of her hand, brushing the delicate bones of the wrist before moving higher.

She drew the glove down over Nox's forearm slowly, her yellow eyes on the other woman's face, rather than the scarred, twisted flesh beneath the concealing gloves. “I'm not angry at you, Melisande. You could have died there, and I know that you knew it before you left. I wasn't certain that you were lying to me about your vision until the moment you got on that shuttle. You looked at me like you wanted to remember my face. Like you weren't going to see it again. And you didn't even get upset with me for calling you Mel where others could have heard it,” Lana explained gently, her contralto voice taking some of the sting from the recitation of the facts. “I realized you thought you were never going to come back. But it was too late to stop you. I -was- angry. But when the shuttle came back, and you were there, alive.. I couldn't stay angry. I was too grateful that you were alive.”

Closing her eyes, Nox didn't acknowledge the words, or the naked emotion that Lana was taking no precautions to conceal from her. She felt Lana's hands on the opposite arm, removing that glove as well, and she wanted to object to the removal of her protection from curious stares. But Lana had never looked down on her for her scars even though she knew the origin of them, and everything about Nox's shameful past. Having the adviser look at them or touch them felt more like a benediction of what she had gone through to get to where she was now from her former slavery and the strength it had taken, instead of a judgment of her unworthiness to be Sith. But even though she could allow Lana to take off her gloves and see the marks she wore on her skin, she couldn't look at her and see that expression on her face right now. It was too much. Too close to admitting she felt something for Lana that she couldn't quantify simply by making it about bloodlines, or power, or rank. 

“Melisande...” Lana's soft voice penetrated her musings, and pulled her back to the moment, forcing her to at least listen. “I know you want things to stay the way they have always been. I have been more than patient, wouldn't you agree? I have waited, and let you have what you wished. I've never pushed for more.”

“Why can't you just leave it at that? Isn't this enough for you?” Nox struggled to hold on to the indifference that she'd always cultivated, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. She could not bear to be seen as weak. She didn't need anyone. Not even Lana. “Why do this now? It's been years. I thought you were happy.”

“Content, maybe. But not happy, Melisande. And you know that. You always knew that, but it was worth it to you because it was your rules, your game, and you got to decide how it would be played.” 

“This isn't the time to change things, Lana. I'm giving you everything that I have to give.” Frustrated, Nox pulled her hands from Lana's, crossing them over her chest, the scarred skin marked with a tangled map of the frightened child she had been. But rather than be insulted by Nox's rejection of her touch, Lana simply took up her tea, taking a sip calmly, viewing the Inquisitor over the rim of the cup before she replaced it on the table. 

“You nearly died. You -knew- you were likely to die, and you didn't even tell me before you went haring off. No, don't interrupt,” Lana said sharply when the other woman opened her mouth, and Nox blinked at her and closed her lips together with a startled expression in the large blue eyes that dominated her doll-like features. “You know how I feel about you, Melisande. I love you. I've felt this way for years, despite the fact that you refused to let me say it to you. If you don't feel anything similar for me, then you need to tell me. I have to know that all of this was going somewhere. If I'm mistaken, then let me go.”

Nox felt as if her brain had just ground to a complete halt. She couldn't think of a response, or a way to deflect, or dissuade, or deceive. Lana sat in her chair, drinking her tea like she hadn't just essentially said that she was going to walk away and find someone else who could give her what she needed, and Nox could see the yawning chasm opening beneath her. She'd been neatly outflanked. By a -bureaucrat-. 

What had she even been guarding against all this time? Lana knew everything. Her past, her trajectory to the Dark Council. She even knew about what Marr's death had done to her, and how it had fractured the life she'd had, and the plans she'd made, and thrown everything into disarray. Nox knew she had not come out of that loss as the person she'd been before it, and yet, somehow.. Lana had not left her then. She'd stayed. She'd loved her, without ever saying the words. She'd let her feel like she was in control of everything for years, and what possible reason for that was there except love? 

Lana tucked her blonde hair behind one ear, her golden eyes surveying Nox's face silently, watching her lover think. Finally, Nox reached out one hand to her, and she took it in hers, her fingers warm from the tea mug she'd been holding. “Will you come up here?” the Inquisitor asked, and Lana smiled slowly, rising to her feet. She got into the bed, careful to stretch out along the side away from the incision and blaster wound, her fingers tucked around Nox's small hand. “I should have told you what I had seen, Lana. And I wanted to, but when I tried, the words just wouldn't come. It felt like a terrible thing to do to you, to tell you that I might not come back.”

“Were you afraid?”

“No, of course not. But I didn't want to hurt you. Telling you would have given you so much pain, and I knew that there was a chance that I would survive. The vision wasn't absolute on the outcome, just that I had to be there for us to succeed, and that I would be injured in the process. I didn't want to make you live with that knowledge while I was gone, Lana.” Nox glanced at Lana, and the other woman traced the faint scars on the Inquisitor's arms, following their paths with her fingers. “As I recall, you didn't tell me where you were going when you went in to the Spire to find Selirah.”

With a soft laugh, Lana conceded the point, curling her body carefully against Nox and sliding her free arm under the other woman's neck. “You're right, of course. We've both had our share of dangerous tasks, and that's just the times we live in. I shouldn't have said what I did. At least, not the way that I said it. I don't want you to feel like it's an ultimatum.”

Nox laid her head down on Lana's shoulder, her braided hair coiled up into a crown that smelled sweet when the adviser turned to brush the other woman's cheek with her lips. “It was an ultimatum, Lana. You've waited a long time.” 

“I have. But pressuring you isn't going to help..”

“You're not pressuring me.” Nox rolled her eyes in exasperation, making Lana laugh again at the exaggerated expression. “You are only asking me to give you something that you want, and I won't deny you.” Lana drew back slightly in surprise, angling so that she could look at the Inquisitor more clearly, her gold eyes fixed on Nox's face. “I love you, Lana. I know it might not look the way that you hoped it would between us. But I'm giving you everything that I have to give.”

“You -could- move in with me instead of sleeping in that catastrophe of a room that you use as an office,” Lana added helpfully, the corners of her lips twitching in an effort not to openly smile. 

“Only if you -never- wake me up when you get up in the morning. Ever. Even if we're under attack. You get up too early.”

“I promise.”

“Look at me, embracing all this change. All it took was a knife in the chest. Now go away, I want to sleep,” Nox told her irritably. “I'm not having the medics come in here to find me cuddling with you.”

Lana made a rude noise under her breath. “Oh, yes you are. I'm not going anywhere until they've given you the all clear, and you're just going to have to learn to deal with the fact that people might see you with me more often from now on.” She slid her fingers into the heavy coronet braid crowning Nox's head, pulling the pins out that held it in place and unwinding it gently. Deftly unfastening the plait, she loosened the thick blonde strands, finger-combing them out until it lay in long, smooth waves over the blanket. “I won't take no for an answer, Melisande. I'm done letting you dictate everything to me.”

Nox shot her a sour look, but then she closed her eyes, relaxing into Lana's protective arms. As she began to sink into sleep, the diminutive Inquisitor felt Lana carefully sliding the concealing gloves back over her arms so that no one else would see her scars, keeping her safe from the prying eyes of others without needing to be asked. 

**Detention Cells, Odessen:**

Selirah stood outside the cell, watching the prisoner sleeping. He looked so much like Theron, even without whatever field he'd been using to complete the illusion enough to fool them all. The only way to know how long he'd been in place was to get it from him, and thus far, he had barely spoken. The containment field hummed quietly on the edges of her senses, separating her from him, but even now, knowing he was not Theron, she still wanted to open the field and see if he smelled like Theron, felt like him. The surge of guilt that rose along with her desire made her step back, away from him, and she closed her eyes tightly, one hand reaching out to find the wall behind herself. 

Stumbling out of the room, she hit the door panel with one hand, closing it behind herself. Selirah heard the lock click, and leaned her back against the door, pain and anger filling her mind and pushing out all the other complicated emotions that she felt every time she let herself think of Theron. 

“What did he say?” Quinn's voice broke into her thoughts, and Selirah turned to look at him as he approached her slowly. His dark blue eyes were fixed on her face, and she took a careful breath, trying to push down her anger. Arcann's presence in her mind flared, lighting up her senses as his anger fed on hers, and she locked down their bond, thinning it out to a thread to protect him from her emotional upheaval.

“Nothing. He was sleeping. Malavai.. what are your thoughts about him?” 

His expression changed, growing thoughtful. “There are, of course, a number of possible theories. I find it difficult to believe, given the variable of this impostor, however, that Theron was the one at fault for the betrayal.” He glanced at her briefly, then away, and Selirah let herself take a moment to just watch him and admire the impossibly handsome profile of his face. That such a clever, observant mind was housed in that attractive package... Realizing Quinn was about to speak again, she pulled her attention away from the firm, sensual line of his lips and listened to the actual words coming from them instead. “I realized that may not have been apparent to you, given your nearness to the issue and your.. our.. past. But I think that it is likely that Theron Shan must become a priority to locate. Not because I believe he is the traitor, but because I think it is quite possible that he is -not- the traitor.”

The full impact of his statements took a moment to penetrate her distracted mind, but when they did, her stomach gave a nauseated twist, and Selirah shook her head emphatically. “No. That would mean.. you think that he wasn't involved. You think he was taken. He didn't leave..”

Some part of her knew that Quinn could hear the ending of that sentence as clearly as she did in her own mind. _He didn't leave me of his own accord._ Quinn's eyes met hers, dark blue eyes locking with her stricken violet eyes, and he offered a hand to her in empathy, reading the distress written all over her shocked face with the ease of long practice as she accepted his hand in hers. 

“I can't be sure, my love. However, I do think it is a strong possibility. There has been a discordant note in everything about this situation from the very start. I may be wrong in my reading of Agent Shan's character. But I do not believe that I am, as much as it pains me to admit that I allowed my anger and resentment to color my initial reaction to his perceived disloyalty to you.” Quinn's shoulders lifted and fell in an insouciant gesture of dismissal, a graceful shrug that somehow managed to be both apologetic and self-mocking at once. “With time and distance, and the new information, I can only see one reasonable option, and it is not one that you were capable of seeing. I believe that the prisoner made a great effort to cause you such pain that you would be distracted from the one scenario that he did not want you to arrive at on your own.”

His delivery was so matter-of-fact and businesslike that Selirah could do nothing but listen, and consider his idea rationally. She -wanted- to be angry, to refuse to believe that she could be so easily misled, but the longer she thought about it, the more obvious it seemed that Quinn could very well be correct. And if he was, then Theron had been missing for weeks at the least, and in the hands of enemies. He had been waiting, possibly injured or worse, for them to come for him, and they hadn't. If Quinn was right, then she had abandoned Theron without realizing it and had believed the worst of him, as well.

“Get Pierce for security, and find Lyorek. Nox cannot oversee the interrogation until she is well, and this will not wait. I want you to get the prisoner ready to be questioned, and I want Lyorek to get everything out of him that he possibly can. You have until tomorrow, and then I'm going to take over. Do you understand, Malavai?” 

“Of course.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment, and left to carry out her orders. Selirah took the opposite direction down the hallway, her steps slow. She could feel Arcann's concern for her, calling to her even though the restricted link between them, and she flung it open wide without a thought, letting him feel everything, sharing her burden with him. The sickness roiling in her stomach eased enough to be bearable, and she knew he was lending his strength to her even as she let him see the guilt and sadness building up inside her mind. If Quinn's theory was correct, Theron could be in more danger now than he had ever been before – if the impostor's masters knew he had been captured, Theron's value to them might plummet. 

The door slid open as she reached it, and Arcann's arms closed around her the moment she entered their room. But for once, Selirah didn't feel comforted by his touch or his deep voice speaking soothingly to her, and she could sense that he knew it.


	103. Lessons Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers flare, and Arcann finds himself on the wrong side of Selirah.
> 
> Quinn's concerns are somewhat allayed, and he is also fairly successful in his task.
> 
> Lyorek is probably a bit of a sociopath.

**Empress' Quarters, Odessen:**

“We don't know any of this is reality.” Arcann's expression was set stubbornly. “Quinn might be wrong. Why do you want to believe that Theron is innocent when everything about this situation says that he is not? He betrayed us both, Seli!” He stalked past her, and she sighed quietly to herself, sinking down on the couch. His emotions felt much stronger since he'd returned, and she could feel them in the room like atmospheric pressure, pushing against her thoughts and even physically present, as if the room's air were heavier than usual. “I know Quinn means well,” he added in a somewhat conciliatory tone, his bright eyes flickering towards her. “But I don't think you should be quick to believe that this is fact. It's just his theory.”

“Quinn is not prone to -guessing- at things without reason, Ar'eswo,” Selirah pointed out, one hand rubbing her stomach idly. She still felt more than a little ill every time she thought about Theron being in someone's custody, and while it was tempting to agree with Arcann, something about Quinn's words could not easily be denied. “He would not have even mentioned it to me if he didn't believe there was a strong possibility that it was the truth. Why don't you want to even consider that Theron might be a captive? This might not -be- him. Why would he do this to us? He loved us.. I know that wasn't a lie.”

“He loved YOU!” Arcann's voice rose to a snarl, and the computer terminal whose screen they had replaced recently cracked again in response to the force of his anger like a blaster shot in the close confines of the room, the sound punctuating his obvious temper. “And it still didn't stop him from trying to murder you. Think about what happened, Seli.. think about Iokath, that throne. Think about the train! The droid!” His hands curled into fists as he paced back and forth like an angry cat, his brows drawn down over the golden-orange hue of his eyes. “He used us both for his purposes, he said so himself. You don't know that was all the impostor!”

“Don't do this to yourself. We don't know what is going on, yet. Assuming that Theron's a traitor is what led us to the place we're in right now, and it's done no good for -any- of us, Arcann.” Selirah put her chin in her hands, reaching out to him through their bond, trying to smooth the jagged edges of his anger. She could feel him resisting, his presence bristling with fury and bruised trust, and she could feel a small core of fear hidden beneath it all. “There is nothing for you to be afraid of.. nothing for you to be worried about. We'll find the truth, and we'll find Theron, and maybe he'll be able to come back home to us. Maybe it will turn out that he didn't..”

“No. I don't believe that.” Arcann's gaze fell on her and it felt like being burned, his frustration a palpable force behind the altered but still familiar eyes. “I can't even begin to think about that.” 

She rose to her feet, coming over to him, and when her hand touched his, he recoiled for a moment, flinching defensively. “Keella, please.” His shoulders tensed at her words, and then they lowered slightly, a barely visible invitation. Selirah took his hand, feeling the warmth of his strong fingers against hers, engulfing her hand as he seized it fully and pulled her against him with a rough, insistent tug. Her breath left her in a surprised sound, and his left hand wrapped around her waist, holding her against his body. “What about this makes you feel afraid? I can feel it.” 

Arcann's forehead rested against hers, and he closed his eyes, the metal of her headband warm against his skin. Holding her like this felt soothing.. being near to her made everything feel different; less overwhelming. She was the only thing filling his thoughts when they were together like this. “I don't know,” he admitted, and his voice sounded different to Selirah. Uncertain, and more than a little bit vulnerable. “You don't know that I'm wrong. What if he hates us?”

“Then we'll deal with it when we come to that, keella. If he's been imprisoned all this time..” She brought her free hand up, fingers stroking the line of his jaw, touching the perfect side of his face. “You may not like Quinn's idea, but we can't ignore it. They're trying to get the truth from the prisoner. If I need to get it out of him myself, I will. But I have to find out the truth.”

Jaw muscles jumped under her fingers, tension coming and going in an instant. “I can't worry about Theron right now, and I don't believe that he's innocent. The things that he said.. the way he put you in danger, Seli?”

“That wasn't Theron, keella.”

“You don't -know- that! Not for certain.” Arcann stepped back from her, releasing her and leaving her in the middle of the room. Turning away, he went up the stairs, his eyes falling on Theron's locker. His left hand's fingers curled into a fist, and contacted with the metal of the locker, leaving a hefty dent in the material. Striking it again and again, the prince watched with satisfaction as the door twisted and bent. Drawing back his arm again, he felt Selirah's hands on his upper arm, and he stopped, letting her guide it down to his side. “Why do you want to forgive him so badly? Why can't you just accept that he's left us both? He nearly killed you on Iokath.. do you really believe that wasn't him? That he's been gone that long?”

“I could ask you the same question about why you refuse to even consider that he is a victim in this too, Arcann. But I think that I already know the answer.” The twisted door of Theron's locker stood in front of her like a mute accusation, and Selirah looked away from it, feeling the strain settling into her shoulders and neck, stress making her feel like the situation was rapidly escaping any level of control she could levy. “You don't want him to come back. You tried to kill the impostor... you wanted him dead. Theron would have been out of your way, then, no matter what was actually the reality of the situation. We would have had no way to find out anything about what was truly going on, and either you would have killed Theron out of hand, or the only person who could have helped us find him more quickly.”

Her accusation dropped into the air between them as if it were a stone tumbling into a pool. Arcann's face showed nothing at first, empty of emotion or acknowledgment. It was not his expression that gave him away, however.. it was the guilt that Selirah felt in their bond, and the immediate defensiveness that followed it. “I.. it was not conscious. I wasn't trying to keep him away in the thought that he was innocent, Selirah. That wasn't my intention. I thought he had betrayed you, me, and all of us. I thought he meant to destroy everything you had built.” The look on his face finally changed, shame flooding into the topaz of his eyes. “I didn't know there was any possibility that he was innocent. You have to believe that.”

“I told you that I wanted him -alive-. You were given direct orders, and you ignored them. You thought you knew better than me, than what I felt was best for all of these people that I am responsible for protecting. You could have killed him, Arcann. You almost did. It risked everything, and you did it because you were angry and you wanted him gone against my explicit command.” Selirah reached out to touch the mangled locker, her fingers sliding over the crumpled metal. “You knew I had told you to bring him back alive. It is not acceptable for you to think you can make a decision like that without my approval. You are not the one who makes those choices anymore. -I- am!” Her voice rose, and Arcann flinched at the look in her violet eyes, the anger that filled the bond between them. He stepped back as Selirah tore open her own locker, pulling clothing from it and stuffing things into a bag. 

“Seli, I know it was wrong. I am sorry for it. I said as much before, and I'll say it again as many times as necessary to make you believe it, because I truly mean it.” Arcann watched her sling the bag over her shoulder, her eyes flickering from him to the damaged locker that held Theron's things, and he could feel her resolve harden in that flash of a moment. “Please, Seli. I know it was a mistake. Please!” He reached for her arm, but she twisted away from his fingers, her jaw clenched tightly in her anger. 

“Do not follow me. I have too much to do right now to deal with this, but I assure you, we will speak about it again soon,” she told him icily. Her presence in their bond closed off from him with abrupt finality as if she'd slammed a door in his face, and he felt his hands clench into impotent fists as Selirah walked away from him, crimson fingers activating the door panel. It slid shut behind her, and she was gone. 

Sinking down on the bed, Arcann put his head in his hands.

 **Quinn's Quarters, Odessen:**

It was incredibly late when Quinn made his way towards his room. Incredibly late, or very early, depending upon how one wished to judge time. But the evening had been productive, surprisingly so, culminating in some information squeezed from the prisoner. He wasn't sure why it still surprised him to see the things that Sith were capable of doing. After so many years, it should have seemed normal. Perhaps it was partly due to the fact that it was Lyorek. He'd never seen the Zabrak be anything but charming and humorous, nearly always trailed by the cheerful Jedi that was his companion. 

But once he was in the room with the prisoner, Lyorek had shut off that part of his personality and turned into someone else entirely. For hours, he'd mercilessly forced the man to answer his questions, through trickery at first, and then through some truly inventive and stomach-churning torture. Quinn had to admit that watching the process and making certain that the man survived it had given him a new appreciation for his good fortune in having ended up serving a warrior like Selirah, and not someone like Nox or Lyorek. 

Equally disturbingly, the moment Quinn had warned that the man needed to rest and recover or they would be risking his death, Lyorek's predatory expression had turned back into his usual charming, playfully rakish smile like flipping a switch, the red-gold eyes bright with amusement. “Until next time then, Major Quinn. Jax is going to chew me out for being so late to bed,” the Inquisitor told him in a relentlessly impish tone before taking his leave, his farewell wave accompanied by a jaunty, flirtatious wink. 

Quinn stayed behind to make certain that the prisoner's vitals were stable, but there was no way they'd get more out of him until he'd had a chance to heal and rest at least somewhat. Exhausted, he went back to his own room, the door sliding open at his touch. The light went on, set to low at this time of night, and he began undressing methodically, folding each piece of clothing neatly and setting it aside on the small table next to his storage locker. All of it would need cleaning after tonight's work, but all he could think of right now was getting into bed for a few hours of badly needed sleep. 

Later, he wondered how he could have missed the clues, but it wasn't until he slid into bed with the lights dimming down into full darkness, that he realized he wasn't alone in the room. The blankets were warm, and his hand encountered the sleek curve of a familiar hip beneath the fabric. Surprised though he was, Quinn knew immediately that it was Selirah; who else would be in his room, and in his bed? But he also instantly wondered what had happened between her and Arcann that she'd come here and appropriated his bed once again. 

She stirred as he settled next to her on the narrow bed, one arm sliding lazily over his waist, pulling him closer to her. Her mouth brushed his throat, and she nuzzled in against him sleepily, breathing the sharp, citrus-clean scent of his soap. “Malavai,” Selirah murmured, sounding half-awake. “Sorry. I should have asked, but I knew you were busy.” 

“Is something wrong, my love?” Quinn asked, his voice low. He let his hand slide over the line of her hip and thigh, enjoying the softness of her skin and the warmth of her body against his. 

“Needed time to think. Cool down a little bit. So angry.” She yawned against his throat, and his hand moved higher, stroking down the curve of her uppermost lek, brushing against the flexible, prehensile length of the sensitive flesh. Quinn could feel her lips curve in a faint smile, and she kissed his neck, lips moving to his jaw, teeth nipping his skin and sending an involuntary shiver of pleasure through him. “He disobeyed me on purpose.. Arcann knew we needed the prisoner alive, but still he tried to kill him deliberately. I just.. I needed to not be there, just then. We have to find Theron, Malavai. Did you have any luck with the impostor?” Her words became more clear, more complete as she woke up, and he could almost feel the intensity of her violet eyes on him in the darkened room as they lay entwined on the bed. 

“Lyorek was quite.. efficient,” Quinn admitted, and she must have heard something of the disquiet that he felt in his voice despite his efforts, because her demeanor changed, and she contained herself to only running one hand slowly up and down the line of his back; a soothing, gentle touch. “We obtained quite a bit of information, plenty for me to say with certainty that Theron Shan is a prisoner, and not what we believed of him. I'm not certain if I should be pleased about that revelation or not, to tell the truth. I feel ashamed that I let myself believe he would turn on you when it should have seemed so obvious that he would not. It was out of character for him to say and do the things that he did on Umbara. At any rate, it is all in the report I sent to you and Lana.”

“It's not your fault. It's not even Arcann's. I'm very angry with him for what he did, but.. I know he's struggling with his feelings about what he believed Theron had done. We all are, and there's no way of knowing what Theron thinks, trapped there alone. He may not know that we were unaware of his absence, that there was a doppelganger here taking his place. We have to find him.” 

“We will. He resisted telling us Theron's location, but he fought it so hard that I'm quite certain he does know where Agent Shan is being held, and possibly even what is being done to him. He did admit that they were extracting information from Theron to sell his deception, so that you would not know that it wasn't Theron who was turning on you.” Quinn fell silent, and he felt Selirah burrow closer to him in the quiet darkness of the room. He tightened his arms around her, feeling a stab of regret mingled with shame that they would probably find Theron soon. He wasn't fool enough to think it wouldn't change their dynamic, and perhaps alter the amount of time that he had with her. After they'd spent so much time in each other's company, re-learning what it was like to be together, it was hard not to resent the incipient change, and for a moment, he felt a reluctant sense of camaraderie with the haughty prince. If anyone could understand Arcann's homicidal urge against the prisoner, Quinn had to admit it was him. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, and Quinn felt her yawn. He settled more comfortably in bed, her body curved against his, and held her close to him. 

“There's nothing to thank me for, Seli. You asked me to oversee the interrogation and keep him alive, and I merely did what you wished.” 

“You are not simply one of my people, Malavai, and I worry that I lean on you too much. Expect too much from you.”

Quinn tilted her chin upwards with his fingers, and kissed her in the dark, the softness of her lips against his almost enough to make him forget how exhausted he was at the moment. “I can handle it, my love.” 

“I have no doubts about that, Malavai.” She was quiet for long enough that he'd begun to think she'd fallen asleep, but then she kissed him again before continuing. “I love you. I'm grateful for your clever mind and ideas, but it's -you- that I need. I hope that you understand that. You are irreplaceable to me. This information about Theron does nothing to change that fact, and when we get him back home, things will have change.”

Uncertain, Quinn asked, “Between you and I?”

“No.. No, that's not what I mean. I just don't want you to think that you're less important to me, or that I will push you aside. I can't begin to say how any of this should work for us.. it's complicated, ridiculously so,” she admitted wryly, and Quinn laughed, a quiet, amused sound in the dark room. “But you are my husband, Malavai. You deserve recognition and a place at my side, and you will have it.”

“I believe you.” He closed his eyes, feeling relieved at her words, and less as if he was walking the length of a crumbling path that would end in his exile from his wife's side. Complicated was not nearly enough of an explanation for what they were all trying to navigate, and Theron's return was a wild card that he couldn't begin to guess at quite yet. Knowing she wanted him to stay with her alleviated the concern he'd felt about the agent coming back to Odessen, and the rest would have to take care of itself somehow. They could figure it out together.

After a few hours of sleep, and another interrogation of the prisoner, and a dangerous rescue mission to find Theron, that is. All in a day's work.


	104. We All Fall Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron starts to sink into hopelessness as time goes on. 
> 
> Selirah and Quinn share some private time, and a promise, before it's time to chase down the information from the prisoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Drug addiction, forced drug ingestion, unsanctioned surgery, general bad guy behavior.

**Prison Complex, Location Unknown:**

_I'm going to die here._

_No. I'm coming to find you. Wait for me, Theron._

Waking with a start, Theron ran a hand down his side, feeling the tenderness of bruises. His ribs stood out sharply against his skin, and he could feel the pain from a cracked bone as his fingers traced over his filthy flesh. He could barely stand the smell of his own body, much less the cell that had been his home for longer than he wanted to remember. The dream was fading quickly in the ugly artificial light of his cell, but he remembered hearing Selirah's voice in his mind as clearly as if she had been beside him, laying next to him in the bed, her lips brushing his ear. 

He knew it was all a dream, though. It was always just a dream. He was going to die here. Alone.

Something had changed for the worse several days ago, but he had no idea what had happened, or why it had affected the people holding him prisoner. He'd been in the interrogation room when suddenly, his tormentors had left in a group after the most senior among them received a message, leaving him bound helplessly to the table, lost in a haze of the drugs they fed him nearly daily. Days before, he'd realized how addicted he was to the sensation the drugs gave him, and how sick and anxious he became on the days when they didn't come for him, and withheld his dose. At least today, he'd gotten it; and the moment he'd had that thought, he'd felt sick with shame that the oblivion of the drug was so desirable to him. Theron laid there, unable to move, trapped until they remembered that he had been left behind. 

The guard had come for him, the brutal one who took obvious delight in abusing him at every possible opportunity. This time, he'd made Theron walk in front of him down the long hallway, kicking his feet out from under him at irregular intervals and laughing when he went sprawling. The third time he'd fallen, he'd slammed into the wall, smacking his head against it painfully. Spilling to the floor and half-dazed, Theron barely felt the first kick from the guard's heavy booted foot at first, but he'd felt the rib crack under the force of the blow. His body rolled over reflexively onto his back, and he bit back a cry of pain, struggling to get to his feet only to receive another kick, this one aimed carefully at his kidney. Collapsing, Theron laid there, coiled up into an agonized, nauseated ball, and the guard finally dragged him to his feet by his hair, hauling him cruelly down the hall and throwing him bodily into his cell. 

Rolling across the filthy floor, Theron fetched up against the sparsely blanketed bed with a choked whimper, and simply stayed there for over an hour, unable to make himself move to get back onto the bed. When he finally got up, he hauled himself onto the lumpy, uncomfortable bed, pulling the thin blanket around himself. The drug coursing through his system kept the pain from registering fully. He knew that he was injured, obviously; but he couldn't really assess it all until the drug wore off. The problem was that once the drug wore off, he'd be in so much pain, it became impossible to stop himself from frantically craving another dose of it. A vicious cycle that he knew had already turned him into an addict, and one that he knew his captors could make so much worse at any moment simply by withholding the drug from him, forcing him into the torturous sickness of withdrawal.

Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the distant throbbing agony in his damaged body, letting the euphoria and dulling pleasure of the drug do its work. Lost in the haze, Theron didn't hear the door open an hour later, and when he felt the needle jab into his arm, it was too late. 

**Quinn's Quarters, Odessen:**

Stretching under the covers, Quinn slowly came awake. The bed was warm, more than his own presence alone made it, but Selirah was not beside him. He rolled onto his side, opening his eyes, and saw the Twi'lek, kneeling in the middle of the room in a pair of shorts and a soft tank top. Her eyes were closed, hands resting palm upwards on her thighs, and her body was somehow both relaxed and tense; like someone who was listening to something just out of range. Propping his head up on his fist, he waited. There was no point in attempting to talk to her when she was deep in the near-trance of meditation, so Quinn didn't bother to try. She would 'wake' from the meditation when she was ready, and not a moment sooner.

His intention to stay awake lasted for the better part of forty minutes before his head slid off his hand and hit the pillow, and he was almost asleep ten minutes after that, when he felt her sliding back into bed. Quinn had to admit that it was almost comical, the way that she was so careful, trying not to wake him. Abandoning even the pretense of sleep, he pulled her close to him. It was nearly time to start his day, but for the time being, he could enjoy the warmth of her body against his. 

The chrono chimed softly, the five minute warning, and Quinn sighed under his breath. Then he heard something crumpling, emitting a sad little clunk of sound reminiscent of the alarm chime. “I don't want to get up,” Selirah said in a muffled, disgruntled tone, her lips tickling his throat. Her thumb brushed his cheeks, feeling the stubble there. 

“You crushed it because you didn't want to get up?” Quinn gave her an incredulous look, and she pulled the blanket up completely over her head, the edge rubbing against his chin when she disappeared beneath it. “I can't just stay in bed all day, and neither can you,” he pointed out reasonably, small shivers going through him as Selirah's lips trailed kisses down his chest and stomach in a slow, deliberate line. “No matter how much either of us might wish otherwise.”

“Yes. I can. I'm the boss. Or that's what everyone keeps telling me, while they go on doing whatever they like around me.” Selirah didn't sound at all willing to argue the point, her low voice husky and firm. “I won't, of course. I have to get up. But just.. let me pretend that the worst thing we're facing is being late for a briefing. Only for a little while, Malavai. Then I'll figure out what to do about this newest crisis.” 

Quinn heard the plaintive, sad tone in her voice, but before he could agree with her request, he also felt her mouth. More specifically, her teeth. His eyes went wide in reaction, and he lay very still, his body's instant arousal warring with his brain's shock at where her teeth -were-. They dragged very slowly over his cock, the root held firmly in her hand, and then her tongue thrust upwards against the underside of the head, just below the edge of the crown, and his hips jerked helplessly in response. He could almost feel Selirah's amusement, even though he couldn't see her under the blankets to know for certain that she was smiling. She loved making him jump like that; feeling him lose control utterly of his body because of something she'd done to him. 

Lips, warm and sure, closed around him, her teeth behind them. Quinn slid a hand down under the blankets, his fingers brushing over the sleek top of her head, and the curving length of her lekku, one after the other before coming to rest between them. Her head lowered over him, and his eyes closed at the sensation of her mouth around him, the pressure of desire building in time with the motion of her mouth over his cock. Each sliding, teasing caress brought him closer to release, and despite the fact that it was an infinitely arousing feeling, Quinn didn't want to finish in her mouth when he knew it could be days or far longer before they had a chance like this again. 

“Enough, my love,” he told her, his voice ragged from the relentless pleasure tingling up his spine. "If you don't stop, I won't be able to hold back." She resisted his words and drew even more strongly on him, her tongue locked against the underside of his shaft with the suction, pressing him up against the unyielding roof of her mouth as she slid her mouth over him. The pressure of it was indescribably erotic, and his hips tensed under her. “Please, Seli...” She ran her free hand up the outside of his hip, holding him still, and let go with a wet, sensual sound. Quinn peeled the blanket down to her shoulders, and she was watching him with her violet eyes, a faint smile quirking her lips as she licked them suggestively. 

Tucking two fingers under her chin, Quinn slid his thumb over her lips, feeling the slickness of the skin and the visceral pleasure of knowing what she'd been doing with them. Selirah moved up over him, straddling his thighs, and he brought his free hand up to touch her. His fingers slipped between her thighs, parting the soft skin, caressing her. He stroked her with lazy, teasing surety, grazing her clit with the tips of his fingers, watching the pleasure fill her eyes. She was controlled at first, her eyes locked on his, but as he toyed with her longer, he felt her grow wetter for him, her clit swollen and sensitive. Her hips began to thrust against his hand, and her gaze went from determined to dreamy, half-lidded and somnolent with pleasure. Her lips parted, and he smiled in satisfaction to hear the ragged, breathless gasps breaking from her throat as she drew closer and closer to the edge. Quinn waited until he could see her eyes start to widen, her breathing catching in her chest, body tensing under his hand, and then he stopped.

When he withdrew his hand, Selirah's eyes focused slowly on him. Her belly flexed, the muscles tightening visibly, her body reaching for the touch he'd taken away, and he watched her fall back from the incipient climax, frustration written plainly on her face. “Malavai..” she said finally, managing to infuse the word with both a question and an accusation. 

“Yes, my love?” 

“Why did you stop?” She reached for him, clearly intending to push the issue by ramping up his own lust, but he stopped her by the simple expedient of wrapping his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away before she could ruin his thinly held self-control. 

“Do you want me to start again?” Quinn half-expected her to see through the 'answering a question with a question' trick, but her mind was clearly focused far too much on gratification to consider what he was up to, and she nodded hastily. Obligingly, his free hand slipped between her legs again, and he watched her arch into the touch as he stroked against the delicate folds, sliding between them to firmly rub the swollen nub of her clit. Her hips jerked sharply, and she inhaled, her eyes losing their focus almost instantly. Seeing Selirah like this, devoid of control, completely at his mercy: it was a rare and immense pleasure, and Quinn had to admit to himself that he didn't feel rushed to end it simply to get his own release. Accordingly, he stopped again when she was nearly there, watching her body tighten in anticipation, feeling it directly for himself as he slid two fingers into her, her core flexing around his fingers hotly. She made a low, desperate whimpering noise in her throat, and he smiled. “Not quite enough?”

“You're not funny,” she answered, but her tone was amused, rather than irritated, and a faint smile touched Selirah's lips as she caught her breath, feeling the edge slip away from her reach for a second time. “If you think I'm going to beg..”

“It's possible it'd work,” Quinn mused teasingly, pushing his fingers deeper, curling them upwards against the inside of her, watching her pupils dilate, hips arching in pleasure. “I suppose it depends on how badly you want to finish.”

“Someone keeps telling me that I have work to do, so it does have to end -sometime-, Malavai.” Her eyes focused on his face again, the lavender irises framed by the dark tattoos that encircled them. “I can't dawdle, as much as I wish that things were different. This isn't the best time to talk about this, but.. I know you're worried. I can tell you not to be all day long, but it's not going to matter unless you believe it, and I don't know how to make you believe it. I'm not going to forget that you realized what was going on, and you came to me with it when it would have been reasonable to say nothing. That's not who you are, Malavai, and I appreciate that about you, and love that about you. Right now, right here.. this is about us, and for us. Things will fall out however they fall out,” she told him, that intense gaze going right through him to his heart, tugging on it. “But we will stay by each other's side.”

He bent to kiss her, releasing her wrist so that he could touch the black tattoos demarcating the line of her jaw, fingers tracing it. She meant what she said, he knew, he could see it in her face, hear it in her voice. It was hard not to worry about Theron's presence, his return, what it would mean, what would change. But he had to trust that she would keep her promise, no matter what happened. “I believe you, Seli,” he told her. He even believed it, in that moment. 

When she guided him between her legs, Quinn closed his eyes, losing his misgivings and fears in the heat of her body and the passion of her desire for him. He sank into her core, feeling her tight around him as she twined her legs around his hips, urging him deeper. Her fingers slid down his back, nails dragging sharply enough that he knew he'd have red marks under his uniform all day, not that he could bring himself to care in the moment. The sharp pain was a goad to his pleasure, and to hers, and he thrust into her harder in response to her urging, forcing cries from her lips until he felt her buck under him, the climax rolling over her with waves of release, making her clench around him so hard that it forced him over the edge with her. His right hand slid under her back, lifting her hips against him as he buried himself deep, the orgasm making his vision briefly fog, tingling through his nerves and washing his thoughts clean of anything but ecstasy. 

Breathless, they lay tangled together, sweat dampened and filled with a pleasant lassitude in the aftermath. Selirah lay one hand on his cheek, brushing her thumb over the light stubble breaking through his skin. “Time to get to work, hmm?” she asked, and Quinn slid a hand over her firm thigh and up to the curve of her hip, holding her close to him for a moment or two more, reluctant to let her go. 

“Time to get to work. We have an idea of where they're keeping him, but we may need to get some more information out of the prisoner.” He tried to keep his face from giving anything away, but he could see by the sudden attentiveness of her gaze that he'd failed. “Have you seen Lyorek with a prisoner before?” Quinn asked, giving up the hope of hiding how sick the experience had made him. 

“I've seen Nox. And Marr, too. And I've done my share of interrogations. I know this sort of thing isn't your area, Malavai. We'll deal with him, and I'd like you to get the team organized so we can get off planet as soon as possible. One hour, two at the most. We can't leave Theron there.. if they know we have their impostor, his life will be in danger.” Selirah disentangled herself from his arms, sliding over him to get out of bed. Bending over him, she kissed him one more time, her lekku dangling on either side of her face, a tired smile on her lips. “Thank you for finding out the truth.”

“You're welcome, my love. I would tell you good luck in your dealings with the prisoner, but I know it is unnecessary.” 

She paused, stepping into her boots while balancing on one foot, and winked at him, but despite her attempt to appear cheerful, Quinn could see the worry in her face. They were running out of time quickly, and he hoped that she really could get the information out of the prisoner as easily as she seemed to believe that she could. The door slid open, and she blew a kiss at him before vanishing into the hallway, leaving him to his own preparations. 

**Prison Complex, Location Unknown:**

_Make the adjustments quickly, we are on a timetable._

_This is the only way to keep the plan on track. The leadership must have a vacancy. He is the only way to make that happen._

_This is very delicate work. It can't be rushed or he will be rendered useless. The device must be precisely calibrated._

_Did he move? Check the sedation._

_Keep him under. Increase the dosage by point five._

Something was wrong.

He couldn't move, and his limbs felt heavy, strapped down. Theron tried to struggle, to pull an arm free, and only succeeded in forcing one finger to twitch helplessly. He could feel the bindings at wrist, forearm, bicep, and chest, and he could feel the cold operating table beneath him, but the lights over head blinded him and the people around him were wearing masks and surgical gear, obscuring who they were, and muffling their words. They looked down at him, and one of the confusing shapes bent over his head with a magnifying view on a robotic arm, angled for them to look through as they worked.

Before they could touch him, another seemed to notice his eyes were open, and he saw the masked figure reach for a switch, flipping it to a higher setting. The breathing mask over his mouth and nose filled with gas, and he tried to hold his breath, but he was forced to inhale it. The room swam, and he sank back into unconsciousness and the blackness of dreamless sleep before he could wonder what they were doing to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I'm behind on my prompts but.. ;) Whatever, I've got this! Title is a song by The Rigs.


	105. Sucker For Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team arrives to find Theron, and finds a bit more besides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some violence, not too explicit. Some Lyorek-ness.

Nine's ship, the _Whisper_ , was extremely luxurious and finely appointed, but no one aboard was in much of a mood to remark upon it. The agent was piloting, with Kaliyo assisting in the cockpit as much to keep her away from a ship full of touchy force-users as anything else. Lana and Lyorek were on the couch in the lounge, talking quietly to each other, and Selirah had gone in the back with Arcann. Everyone was collectively pretending not to hear the raised voices coming from the storage room. 

Yariele, the lone Jedi in attendance, knelt on the dark-paneled wood flooring with her hands folded in her robe-swathed lap, deep in meditation across the room from Lyorek and Lana. Alyxia, silent as an empty suit of armor, stood leaning against the wall near the cockpit, booted feet crossed at the ankle and arms crossed over her chest in bored patience. 

Kaliyo appeared in the hall from the cockpit, her pale eyes moving from person to person. “They always this fun?” she asked, and Alyxia's helmet turned towards her, the T-visor smoked dark and impenetrable. 

“Pretty much,” the Mandalorian said in response, her voice slightly metallic in the external speaker. 

“The Whisper's fast. We'll get there soon enough, and should be able to stay unnoticed.” The Rattataki perked up, her attention shifting down the length of the ship to the barely audible raised voices from the storage area. “That the Sith and Mr. Angry? They going to kill each other?” Belatedly noticing that Lyorek and Lana had both turned to look at her, she raised her voice to carry to them in their seats. “The OTHER Sith.”

“Better hope they don't try to kill each other. They'd probably rip the ship apart, and it's a pretty nice ship,” Alyxia opined, and Kaliyo chuckled in agreement, patting the sleek doorway with one hand.

“Sure is. Kinda missed the old girl while I was on Zakuul. Comfy digs, always on the move.. agents make good partners, if you're not the sort to remain planet-bound for too long.” Kaliyo sauntered through the lounge and down the hall, heading towards the closed storage door. As she approached it, there was a muffled crash from inside the room, followed by the sound of someone's body hitting the door. The shouting, however, had quieted. “Didn't you say that they'd rip the ship apart if they fought?”

“Let them work it out. They're in a temper, but they'll shout and throw things, and then it'll be all smiles and nerf eyes at each other. They will be fine,” Lyorek replied, raising his voice from his perch on the lounge couch. “But I wouldn't be there when one of them opens that door, if I were you.”

Kaliyo set her jaw stubbornly, but took Lyo at his word. When the storage room door opened again, Arcann emerged first, crossing to the end of the couch that wasn't occupied by Lyorek's sprawl or Lana. He sat down, stretching his legs out in front of himself, arms crossed over his chest, and Selirah appeared a moment or two later and sat with her back propped up against his shoulder. The Zabrak glanced at them, then over at Alyxia, then at Lana, and if he'd had eyebrows to raise suggestively, he clearly would have been doing exactly that. Lana rolled her eyes at him, and Alyxia snorted with laughter behind the visor of her helmet.

“How much longer?” Selirah asked, obviously disinterested in encouraging Lyo in his behavior. She was tense and on edge, her fingers twitching against her thigh until Arcann laid his hand over hers, stilling their movement. 

“Kaliyo didn't say exactly,” Alyxia answered. “Few more hours before we drop out of hyperspace, probably.” 

Their arrival several hours later was heralded by the pitch and roll of the ship bucking gravitational storms, and Kaliyo stuck her head into the room to tell everyone to hang on to something. The landing was not easy, or enjoyable, and the only one not looking a little green around the gills by the time they touched down was Alyxia, and she was hidden behind a helmet. Lyorek was the first one out the door into the night, followed by Lana, Alyxia, and Selirah. Nine and Yariele came down the ramp, the agent checking her equipment with quick, efficient movements, and the Jedi as calm as always, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her robe. Arcann was the last one out; Kaliyo was staying with the ship, in case a quick retreat became a necessity. 

There was little talking. The Sith were moving the moment they left the ship, heading towards the target building's coordinates. The others followed, and conversation was, at best, at a minimum. No one wanted to joke, or distract away from the severity of what they were doing. No one wanted to say that the odds were highly in favor of Theron being dead at this point, either. The building loomed out of the darkness, lit fitfully by rooftop beacon lights and a few lamps illuminating the entrance. A heavy complement of soldiers flanked the door, silent and watchful. 

“We're going to..” Lana began, before a puzzled look came over her face, her gold eyes flickering from one person to the next. “Where is Seli... and Lyo...?” 

Arcann's head turned immediately towards the building, and his saber lit with a hiss. Nine had her rifle up to her shoulder already as the prince headed towards the chaos in front of the building, and he didn't even flinch when her rifle barked, his attention all on the purple lightsaber flickering in the midst of the soldiers. Lyorek was a phantasm in the midst of the battle, his double-ended saber moving like a blur in his gloved hands as he appeared and disappeared around the attackers. Arcann's arrival into the fight was a wrecking ball, brutal and efficient, clearing the space to Selirah's side and then falling in with her back to back. There was no space for getting to either of them then, and the soldiers began to go down like stones in a lake. The door slid closed, slamming on one of the soldiers as he tried to crawl through it, killing him instantly. It locked imperfectly due to the body's interference, and Selirah flung herself against the door, her saber burning into the metal, cutting smoking slashes across the surface. 

“Move her back.” Alyxia's no-nonsense voice came over the comm, and Arcann called to the warrior, trying to make Selirah pull away from the door. She didn't respond, and finally he took her around the waist, lifting her off the ground and physically taking her away. She struggled in his grip, but despite her obvious frustration, she didn't try to hurt him or make him put her down. Alyxia waved her hand impatiently. “Further. Further. FURTHER. A little further.”

“Now you're just messing with us,” Lyorek commented, and surprisingly, the Mandalorian laughed. 

“Maybe. There's fine. Cover your eyes and ears.” The others watched her setting charges carefully, checking the angle of the pitched joint of the doors. “Fire in the hole!” Alyxia ducked around the corner of the building, hitting the detonator the moment she'd cleared the blastline. The explosion rocked the ground, and chunks of the door flew inwards. Screams from inside indicated that some of the soldiers had not realized what was going on outside thanks to Nine's careful work eliminating the external cameras that she'd been able to locate. 

Selirah wrenched free of Arcann the moment the door exploded, and she even beat Alyxia inside. The screams of the wounded were joined by more screams, and the roar of a furious warrior shook the walls, knocking another chunk of door to the ground behind her. Nine and Lana were not far behind, and they took the branching of the hall that Selirah and Arcann did not, Yariele joining them. The Jedi looked pale, her eyes averted from the trail of bodies left behind the others. “Master Yariele,” Lana interjected, resting a hand on the Jedi's arm to get her attention. Yariele's dark blue eyes focused on her face, her expression solemn. “If you want to wait at the ship, or outside.. we could leave someone behind with you to hold the entryway.”

“No. If he is injured, you will need me, and the odds make that a likely outcome. I can feel her pain. I could wish she were less brutal in her methods, but I knew who she was when I came to the Alliance. If I ever come to a different conclusion, I will leave, and I don't think she would stop me from doing so.”

“She wouldn't, no. And you're right.. it would be easier on him to be healed by you than any of the rest of us, and we have no idea how bad it will be.” The two gazes met in understanding, gold and blue, and the Jedi nodded in a businesslike, calm way, heading back down the hallway after Nine's dark-armored form. 

**Theron's Cell:**

The explosions rocked the building, even where the cells were located, far underground. Theron tried to force his eyes open but a blinding headache made it impossible, nauseating. He rolled onto his side, his arms wrapped around his stomach, feeling it roll rebelliously, seeking to eject even the small amount of food and water that his captors alloted to him. Another explosion sounded far above, the muffled boom bringing running feet in the hallway outside. The first set ran past his door, then another, then numerous more; guards racing up to face the assault. But one pair skidded to a stop, and he heard his door open, the light piercing the gloom. It hit his face and Theron gagged, the stab of pain in his head making him choke and cough, throwing up over the side of his cot onto the floor. 

“You're disgusting,” the guard captain told him icily, his lip curled as he watched Theron retch painfully. 

“Thanks, you're not too bad yourself,” Theron replied thickly, regretting the snotty impulse almost instantly as a meaty fist struck him twice with brutal efficiency in the back. He felt the explosion of pain in his kidneys, his body spasming violently. 

“They can have you back, filth. They'll regret it. The minute you cross the threshold out of here, you'll be dead anyway. Them too.” He laughed, lifting Theron by the front of his shirt and giving him a shake. “And if you think you're going to tell them about our little parting gift, I'm here to make sure that does not happen. I'm sure your Sith queen will be right here personally to get you. We know she's come for you in the past. Just think,” the guard hissed, pulling Theron closer to his face, hatred in his small, dark eyes, “She is here to save you, and you're going to kill her for us. When you hit the upstairs floor and step out of the building.....” The guard laughed again, unpleasantly, and dropped Theron to the floor in a heap before making an expansive gesture with both hands like something exploding. “Boom.”

Theron lunged for the door, but the guard tripped him and knelt with one knee dug agonizingly into his aching, bruised back. The man leaned his weight on Theron's back purposefully, listening to his choked curses, feeling him struggle to get out from under him. “You want to warn her, don't you? Tell her that we put a bomb in your head to salvage this situation. You'll still serve, in the end, Theron Shan, no matter how hard you fight against us. She'll be sorry she ever saw you. We'll get what we wanted, and you'll be dead, and your Twi'lek bitch will be dead with you. At least you'll be together, eh?” 

Impossibly, Theron could hear the sounds of combat, and over the blaster fire, he heard lightsabers. He was telling the truth: Selirah was coming. It wasn't a lie. It wasn't a trick. Which.. meant that the bomb they'd put in his head might also be the truth. He lay still under the guard's knee, remembering the haze of a few days ago, the operating room, the masked figures working on his head. The moment he'd swum out of unconsciousness to hear them talking about their plan, and how he would be useful after all. Selirah's voice came through the open door, a warrior's rage-filled battle roar, wordless and threatening. He twisted his arm back, ignoring the pain from the badly healed breaks he'd endured, the agony in his back and ribs, the shakes he could feel coming on from being denied the drug he needed so badly. Digging his fingers into a nerve center behind the guard's thick knee, Theron squeezed as hard as he could, feeling the leg pinning him down go limp. The guard twisted away, holding his leg, cursing as Theron forced himself up, going for the door. 

He was there, and then impossibly, he was through it. Selirah was visible down the hall, surrounded by guards, her purple saber flashing almost too quickly for Theron to follow. The pain in his head almost doubled him over, but he braced himself against the wall, stumbling painfully towards her. Arcann was with her, back to back, his gold saber buried in a guard's neck, and Theron saw the prince notice him. The look on Arcann's face was complicated – relief, then anger, then surprise. He saw the prince change his grip on his saber, twisting towards Theron as the guard's hand seized his shirt, dragging him back suddenly. “Theron, down!” he heard Arcann shout, and the guard slammed Theron's head against the wall violently as the saber flashed end for end through the air. 

For a second, before his vision went dark from the blow against the unyielding wall, Theron thought he saw something in Arcann's furious topaz gaze that looked like anticipation. _Is he hoping it takes my head off too? Maybe he's right.. the bomb.. the bomb!_

“They put..!” 

The guard bashed his head into the wall again, and Theron tumbled bonelessly to the floor as the saber growled across the intervening space and sliced off the arm the guard had been using to hold Theron. Arcann called the saber hilt back to his hand, already moving down the hall, but Selirah was there before him, pinning the screaming guard against the wall in a parody of affection, her armored body pressing against his. She slapped him with one heavily gauntleted hand, once. Then twice. The sound of it was loud in the hallway, echoing against the walls.

“Where are your masters?” she asked softly, her lips close to the guard's face. Her violet eyes were burning with rage, gold-rimmed. “If you tell me, I'll let you live.” Her lips curved into a smile, and Arcann could see the guard's eyes drop to them, her power rolling over him like a wave, confusing his simple mind. “Tell me where they are. I'll reward you with everything you know you deserve.”

They both could see him considering it, the pain from his cauterized arm momentarily forgotten as she forced her way into his thoughts, starting to dig cruelly through his mind. The guard arched against her, screaming at the invasion, and Selirah's smile turned cold, vicious. He started to sob, and then to talk, babbling disjointedly as Arcann bent to check Theron's pulse, carefully lifting the other man in his arms. “I told you, I told you!” the guard cried desperately as she withdrew her touch from his mind without any delicacy or care at all, forcing her way out as violently as she'd intruded in the first place. “Please.. you said you'd reward me.” 

“Yes, I did.” Selirah glanced at Arcann, but her eyes never touched for even a moment on Theron's battered face and thin, unconscious form in his arms, avoiding looking below Arcann's bright eyes for even the space of a breath. She pointed down the hall imperiously. “Take him to Yariele and Nine. They went the other way.” The prince nodded, but hesitated, and he could see her eyes narrow in silent warning. She said nothing more to him, but he turned away after a moment, leaving her alone. As he turned the corner, he heard the man begin to scream again, high and thin like a wounded animal, but he didn't look back. 

Yariele and Lana reached him first, jogging quickly down the hall in the flickering light from stuttering sidelights, the current disrupted from the damage Alyxia had inflicted above. He'd never seen the Jedi look anything but controlled and serene, in control. But the look in her dark blue eyes was distraught as she touched Theron's shoulder lightly, the damage and abuse done to him obvious even in the uncertain illumination coming from the walls. “We have to take him out of here, get him safe,” she said decisively as Nine appeared from the direction of the lift, her face expressionless. 

“Where is Selirah?” Lana asked, looking back the way Arcann had come. “Still there? Did she find them?”

“I'm not sure. The guard talked, but there's no guarantee they will be where he told her to go,” Arcann admitted uneasily, a frown curving his lips, tugging at the scarred side of his mouth. “Let's get him upstairs, at least we'll not be caught like womp rats in this warren of hallways if there are more soldiers.” 

Lana's frown echoed his, and she nodded. “You take Theron up with Master Yariele, and Nine, if you could go with them for support...” The agent nodded curtly, heading immediately towards the lift. “I'll go back Selirah up. Where is Lyorek? Up top with Aly?”

“I haven't seen him. We'll try to raise him on the comms,” Arcann answered, heading after Nine with Yariele beside him, her ink-blue robes nearly black in the close space. 

Lana trotted down the hall, barely even pausing at the still smoking, mutilated ruins of the guard spilled halfway down the floor on the way to the door at the end. The panel lay on the floor ten feet into the room beyond, blasted open, but Lana noted the second set of footprints in the dust and debris on the floor. “I found him,” she told the others via the comm, receiving an acknowledgment from Nine before the line went silent again. 

The series of rooms that had lined the previous hall had been left undisturbed, with empty cells like Theron's lining the walls. This hall had only a few small chambers linked, and the doors were ripped open like the first one. Supplies, technology, banks of computers; all of them were destroyed, smoking from repeated blows from a lightsaber and the obvious marks of force lightning. That hadn't been Selirah, so Lana was certain that she was on the right track. Lyorek was following Selirah, though it wasn't clear if he had revealed himself to the warrior or not.

A small industrial lift at the end of the hall led to an even lower floor. There were only two rooms here. One was an operating theater, with a smoked glass window and dried blood splattered on the floor and table. Lana went to the second door, this one ripped out of the wall with such force that the walls were still in the process of crumbling when she passed through, the crimson-bladed saber in her gloved hand igniting with a hiss. 

Lana stepped over the first body, and her eyes didn't fully make sense of what had been done to it until she got to the second, which was similarly dismembered. Her brain caught up a moment later, realizing that the neatness of the butchery was uncharacteristic of Selirah's far more brutal, messy, straightforward methods. Lyorek was visible halfway across the room, his cowled head turning towards Lana as he became aware of her presence. He had one booted foot planted on the chest of the person he stood over, his saber hovering over the meat of their thigh. “Hey Lana,” he said suddenly, and she saw a flash of white teeth in the red and black of his face. “There's a panel back here. Seli went after someone.” The Zabrak sounded like himself, cheerful and a little sly, like he was about to laugh. It made it slightly more unnerving when he started cutting and she realized the body under him was still alive when it started to wail. 

She was no prude when it came to killing, no slouch at combat either. Lana had seen Lyorek fudging his way through combat drills: lazy, bad footwork, poor defense, distracted. Nox chewed him out regularly for his poor performances, mocking him endlessly. Lana had always wondered why Nox talked so disparagingly about the other Inquisitor's skills, but then sent him on the missions without a qualm. Looking at the devastation around her, she understood. Their constant sniping and backbiting was habit, comfortable, like a married couple – Lyorek had been with Nox for years, first as her apprentice and then as a long-suffering underling, running her errands and doing her grunt work. Perhaps Lyo really was lazy, and it was likely that to Nox's eyes, his combat skills really were mediocre. But there was nothing lazy about the Zabrak right now, and his blade work, as mercilessly deployed as it was at the moment, was impeccable and precise. He had a gleeful light in his eyes, the look of someone truly enjoying their work.

Knowing she couldn't look at him the same way in the days to come if she stayed in the room, Lana took his helpful hint about Selirah's whereabouts and activated the hidden panel in the back of the room. She heard the warrior before she saw her, the close, small confines of the passageway opening out into a small round room. A heavy, blast-proof durasteel door stood between Selirah and her target, and she was beating on the door futilely with her fists by the time Lana got to it, having clearly determined that her lightsaber wouldn't get her through it with any amount of speed. “Selirah.. they're gone. This bolthole was clearly made exactly for this kind of situation. We've got to go catch up with the others.. we can't stay here. They could be getting reinforcements.”

It took some time for Lana's sensible words to penetrate the blind rage suffusing the warrior, but she finally stopped the pointless battery of the unyielding door, her hands dropping numbly to her sides. Selirah nodded silently, but only stood there unmoving. Just about the time Lana was starting to think she'd have to physically urge the Twi'lek to head back down the tunnel, she said, “Theron.. Yariele is with him?” 

“Yes. They took him up to the top level.. Alyxia is keeping the area clear. But we have to get out of here.” 

The anger drained slowly from Selirah's face, and she nodded again, her breathing beginning to quiet and return to normal. “Let's go.”

**Upper Floor:**

Yariele knelt next to Theron, her eyes closed. The Jedi hadn't moved at all when Alyxia had come in to check on their progress, but her eyes opened when Selirah, Lana, and Lyorek returned. She rose to her feet, her attention lingering for a moment on the Zabrak before she spoke. “I've done what I can. There are significant half-healed breaks.. several of them.. that will need to be re-set properly. But he's more than half-starved, and very dehydrated. Also, there are other issues that would do well to be addressed by the doctors and medics. He's stable. We can move him.” 

Arcann bent to lift Theron, sliding one arm under the other man's neck and shoulders. Theron stirred, and his eyes opened abruptly. “No! No.. wait.” His voice was rough, but audible, and Arcann frowned down at him uncertainly, letting him back down to the ground and pulling his arm away. 

“Don't you want to get out of here, Theron?” 

“Something in my head.. they took me, operated on me. The guard said it'd explode if I went through the doorway, he said it'd take out me, and you. He said I'd serve whether I wanted to or not,” his exhausted, bloodshot hazel eyes fixed on Selirah's face, and she paled. “He knocked me out so I couldn't warn you. He was counting on you rushing me straight out of here.”

“Everyone get out.” Nine folded her arms, her tone flat and serious. “Get out. I'll get the trigger.”

Selirah gave the agent an incredulous look, a strange, strangled laugh breaking from her lips. “No. I'm not leaving.”

“Yes, you are. You're the target, you hear what he's saying. You have to get out. All of you. I know what this is, I should be able to disarm it, remove it, hopefully without hurting him. Excessively.”

“No. NO. He's been hurt enough, look at him!” Selirah took a step towards Nine, and Arcann rose hastily and laid his hand on her shoulder, his cybernetic fingers flexing, holding her still. 

Arcann could sense her tangled, frantic emotions hitting him like a fist, and all he could feel was the irrational desire to do what she wanted and help her. Protect Theron. It was hard to push through the pressure she was throwing off like an aura all over him. Her desires weighed on his own, dragging him down. It was all that he could do to just hold her shoulder, and even speaking felt like an incredible strain. “Nine is correct. Seli, you can't be here. We can't be here. She will do everything that she can but if you stay and something goes wrong, you will have handed them everything they want. Ask him. Ask Theron if he wants you to stay here.” 

She looked down at Theron, really looking at him, and answered firmly. “I'm not leaving. Nine is staying with me. The rest of you get to a safe distance.” Arcann's hand tightened on her shoulder, and she shook it off roughly, sinking down to kneel beside Theron, her hands folding together in her lap. “This is not a request.”

Nine was already pulling out a kit, laying out several small, delicate tools. She set a vibroknife beside them, noting the half-healed marks around Theron's temple and into his hairline. Arcann lingered as the others obeyed reluctantly, clearing out of the building and joining up with Alyxia. Then he left as well, leaving them alone. “Hold him down, and put this in his mouth, just in case.” Selirah laid the thick strip of leatheris between Theron's teeth, then rested her hands on his chest and hip. Nine injected him with a sedative, then hefted her knife, bringing the point to the apex of the healing incision. “At least he won't feel it, if he blows us all up.”

The agent's dry observation brought Selirah's startled gaze to her face, but the Twi'lek didn't laugh, and wasn't even sure that had been the intent. Nine was right.. sedated, Theron would be the only one unaware if something went wrong. There was something oddly soothing in that truth for her, and she held him firmly and averted her gaze as Nine's knife parted the skin neatly, cutting an exacting incision along his temple then along the edge of his implants. 

Outside, Lana and Arcann paced back and forth anxiously, watching the burned and damaged entrance to the building. Alyxia and Lyorek stood waiting, both of them with their backs against trees, arms folded in identical stances. Despite Lana's attentiveness and Arcann's focus, it was Yariele who saw them first, her quiet voice breaking the uneasy silence that had prevailed. “Nine is coming out.” 

The agent had Theron's upper body propped up against her chest, her arms hooked under his shoulders. Selirah followed, carrying his legs, and they slowly cleared the building. There was nothing, no explosion, no bomb. Lana touched Arcann's arm, feeling him quiver beneath her fingers like an overstrung bow, and the prince turned to look at her, and then dropped his amber eyes pointedly to her fingers. She withdrew them immediately, suppressing an annoyed sigh. “She's fine. They must have found it.” 

“She could have died in there. Because of him.” The unfettered hostility in his voice was obvious, and Lana arched a golden brow.

“I'd reconsider trying to blame Theron for this, if I were you, Arcann.”

“I'm sure you would,” Arcann responded irritably. He took a breath, and the tension in his jaw eased visibly, shoulders loosening. “I apologize. I know you're right, and I don't blame Theron, not truly. It was extremely difficult to watch from here and know that if something happened, I wouldn't be with her.”

Lana regarded him seriously, unsmiling. “That's why she ordered you far away. Do you think she would want to know that she'd been the cause of your death? Or want the responsibility for it? Even just for that one second, it would be terrible for her to know she'd let you die, too.”

The prince gave her a startled, thoughtful look, and turned back towards the approaching trio as they were joined by Lyorek. The Inquisitor took Theron's weight from Nine and Selirah, hefting his limp body easily and following them back. As a group, they headed back towards the _Whisper_ , Nine in the point position and Alyxia trailing.

Aboard Nine's ship, Theron was settled into the medical bay with Yariele in attendance, and then left alone to rest and sleep off the remnants of the sedative. Nine disappeared into the cockpit with a bored and fidgety Kaliyo, both of them sniping at each other good-naturedly as they launched the ship, lifting it smoothly off the surface of the planet and breaking atmosphere. 

An hour into their trip, Kaliyo reappeared and took Selirah and Lana with her into the cockpit. The two Sith joined Nine, and Selirah sat down in one of the vacant seats, spinning it slowly around to face the agent. “There was something strange about what they'd done.” Nine's brows furrowed slightly, and she tapped the interface in front of her, making some minute course adjustments before she looked from Lana to Selirah again. “The way the cortex chage was interconnected, it was clumsy. Inexpert. I'm not saying the bomb wasn't functional,” she clarified, crossing one leg over the other. “It would have blown us all up, or at least maimed several of us. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something odd about the amateurish installation of the charge, when you lay it up against the extremely fine work that was done on our guest at Odessen, and the tech that Lyorek found and brought back from the prison complex where Theron was kept.”

Neither of them responded immediately, but Lana finally interjected, “You're saying that you think it was.. what? A false flag of some sort?”

“Yes. Maybe. No.” Nine gestured helplessly. “I don't know, for certain. It's just a feeling. But it was so comparatively easy to disarm, and it shouldn't have been. It should have gone off. It should have been tamper-proof. I've helped to install these in dissidents jailed on Nar Shaddaa, and they are not meant to be simple to remove or stop.”

Selirah's eyes narrowed slightly, and the Twi'lek folded her arms across her chest. “You told me that you could disarm it. You knew it was probably going to blow?”

“Would it have mattered to you? I knew how to remove them. I also knew they are rarely removable. It was worth the try, at least.” Despite her bravado, Nine's gaze dropped as Selirah's fixed on her face, and Lana saw the agent's shoulders hunch slightly in a defensive posture, as if she were expecting to be punished by the warrior for her failure to be honest about the odds of success. “You wanted to save him, so I did the best that I could to make that happen.”

“It mattered. I would have wanted to have a chance to say goodbye to him, and to Arcann. Not to have the last thing I'd said to Arcann be me ordering him to go away.” Her tone was sharp, threatening, but despite the growl, she did nothing to the agent, didn't vent her temper on her. She simply turned her face away, adding, “It's done, and it's not the important point here. If you're correct, we may have missed something. We've stolen their prize. Perhaps we were allowed to do exactly that.”

“I didn't want to say anything in front of everyone. And I can't guarantee that there is anything wrong. All I can tell you is that it should not have been possible for me to easily remove that cortex charge.. and it was.”

“Then we will have to be vigilant, in case there are any more surprises that they left for us. But for the time being, I am grateful to you for your assistance. Thank you, Nine.” Selirah rose, and left the room, heading back to the body of the ship and leaving Lana and Nine alone. 

“You could stay with us, you know,” Lana offered quietly. “With the Alliance. We could use someone with such specialized skills and talents. It would not be anything like serving Sith Intelligence.”

Nine smiled, a sardonic expression that failed to reach her grey eyes. “Said the spider to the fly. Thank you, Lana, but.. I think I'll pass. Twelve will be ready to travel again, and we have work piling up. I appreciate the offer, but I like my freedom.”

“Understandable. But the offer is open, if you reconsider.” Lana rose as well, leaving Nine alone in the cockpit. 

Kaliyo returned a few minutes later, flopping into the navigation seat and propping her feet up on a relatively blank space next to a bank of monitors and regulatory gauges. “They offer you a job?”

“Yeah.”

“Gonna take it?”

Nine smirked, rolling her eyes at Kaliyo. “Trying to convince me the leash isn't that tight?”

“It's not. I do what I want to do. No one tells me to stick around, and I get access to guns, idiots with paychecks to burn at the pazaak table, and explosives. What's not to like?” the Rattataki shrugged. “Do what you want to do, Nine. You always do. But you can't run away for your whole life.”

“Why not? That's exactly what you've done.”

“You have a point there,” Kaliyo admitted with a grin, leaning back in the chair and turning to watch the stars rushing past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still here! ;) Almost done with my month of prompts, and I've been working on this chapter for a while, so when I got inspiration the other day, I put my prompts down and got it mostly done, then finished today. 
> 
> I'm sorry it took so long, but hopefully it was worth the wait. Thanks for reading! <3


	106. You Can Check Out Any Time You Like...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Quinn have a weighted discussion.
> 
> Nine and Twelve make plans to leave.
> 
> Jaxan and Yariele have a difference of philosophical opinion.

**Medical Bay, Odessen:**

It was an unusual sight, enough so that Quinn stopped mid-stride on his way back to the medical bay with a box of supplies tucked under one arm. The door to the bay was closed, but he knew it wasn't locked. Rather than being inside where he'd expected her to be, Selirah was sitting on the floor outside the door, sleeping exhaustedly with her head pillowed on Arcann's right shoulder. The prince's legs were stretched out across the hallway, broad back propped up against the stone wall, arms wrapped around Seli's waist and his eyes closed as well. 

Things had moved quickly since they'd arrived back with Theron in tow, the agent a mass of broken bones that had set poorly, contusions and lacerations, his body and mind traumatized. He was half-starved and dehydrated, had a severe bacterial infection, a mild contamination infection around his temple where Nine had done her little field surgery, and a far more severe withdrawal underway from the drug they'd been plying him with in captivity. The damage done to his implants was something that had been placed on the back burner while everything more immediate was dealt with, but there was no telling whether or not they'd be salvageable, or would need replacing. They'd had to re-break his healing bones and set them properly, and Quinn had kept Selirah out of the room deliberately during that particularly difficult process, both for her own good and for the relative safety of the medics. He hadn't been entirely certain that she would be able to watch Theron being hurt deliberately and not react.. aggressively, which had been a concern on which Arcann had agreed.

It was when the withdrawal from the drug had really set in that Theron had become the hostile one. He'd turned into someone unrecognizable, wracked with pain and an uncontrollable anger, lashing out at everyone around him. Quinn had seen the horrified look in Selirah's eyes when Theron had snarled at her to get out, to leave him alone. _You left me there! You didn't mind deserting me before, so get out! I don't want you here!_

For a moment, Quinn had thought that the warrior was actually going to cry. Her face had crumpled, the lavender eyes stricken with guilt, and she'd fled the room with Theron still spitting epithets at her back. He'd looked for her later, but the door to her room was closed, locked, and she wasn't answering the holo. And now here she was sleeping outside the medical bay door on the stone floor, as close to Theron as she apparently dared to come while he was being detoxed. It didn't seem wise to wake her, and he wasn't even sure what he'd say if he did. Theron was nowhere near ready for visitors, and as much as he hated to admit it, Quinn wasn't certain when the other man would be. Some people never recovered from the kind of trauma that Shan had dealt with for weeks. There was no way to put a timeline on it.

Leaving the pair dozing there in the hall, Quinn headed into the medical bay. He couldn't fix everything else going on, but at least he could help in here. 

Theron was awake, with one of the medics nearby taking down readings of his vitals and another stocking supplies. Quinn handed off his burden and started to head over to the terminal on a nearby desk when the other man spoke to him, his voice sounding rusty and tired. “Major Quinn. Can I ask you a question?”

Letting the silence drag out for a moment longer than was strictly necessary, an impulse that he knew was petty but one that he could not restrain himself from indulging all the same, Quinn came to the agent's bedside. “Of course. What would you like to know?”

“...Is she going to come back? After what I said?” The words came slowly, weighted with shame, and Quinn felt a stab of sympathy at the expression on Theron's thin face. “I didn't.... Look, I know she didn't desert me. I get that she didn't know.”

“Theron, you're not entirely yourself yet. She does understand that.” His answer didn't seem to satisfy Theron at all, and the other man frowned, his brows drawing down as he processed the non-response that Quinn had offered.

“That's not an answer, not really. Is she going to come back? Will she want to see me again after that?”

Quinn sighed, glancing at the door, knowing what lay waiting in the hall beyond the portal. “She will come back, Theron. Of course she will.”

“How do you know? Did she tell you?”

“No. But she's out in the hall right now, sleeping on the floor because she knows you don't want her to see you like this. She wouldn't be there if she didn't want to see you.” Quinn busied his hands and attention, checking the alignment of the freshly set bones, checking the bandages, applying kolto. 

“I want to see her. I didn't mean to say those things.”

“You don't need to tell me, Theron. And you don't need to tell her right now, either. Wait until you're feeling better. More yourself.”

Theron smiled, a bitter, tight smile that failed to reach his eyes. “When will that be, Quinn? Tomorrow? Next week? Two years from now? What if I never feel like myself?”

“Then you deal with that problem when it's here, not before. Give yourself some time.” Quinn finished up, and started to turn away. “Give her time too, and Arcann. They dealt with a lot while you were gone. It wasn't your fault, but.. the person who did the harm was wearing your face, your voice, your manner. The whole situation hit her very badly, and you know how protective Arcann is with her.”

“And you, Quinn? Do you hate to look at me? Does everyone else?” Theron asked seriously, and Quinn felt a small needle of guilt at the question. 

“No.” Succinct and absolute as the response was, he knew Theron wasn't satisfied with it. “The others in the base understand what happened to you. As for me, my feelings are not all related to the events of the past few weeks, as such. And they are my own to deal with, Theron. Now get some rest. You need to let yourself heal.” He could feel Theron's gaze on his back as he walked away, but Quinn didn't look back and give the other man the chance to question him further. 

**Twelve's Room, Odessen:**

“They gave you a room of your own.. that was generous. They could have just shoved you into a shipping container and left you for me to load onto the Whisper.” Nine flopped down into a chair in Twelve's room, propping her booted feet up on the corner of the desk chair that wasn't occupied at the moment by Twelve's rear end and using one toe to prod his hip. “It would have been cheaper than feeding you, I'm sure.”

Twelve smirked over his shoulder, shoving her feet off his chair. “I've seen some of their behemoth guards. I don't think I could make a dent in anything that Major Pierce could put away, or that Talz either.. though I've no idea what those ambulatory rugs eat.”

“Skinny Imperial slicers,” Nine opined mockingly, but at the alarmed glance the still-thin Twelve shot her, the agent relented. “They eat liquids.. that's why their mouth is like that. No matter what he says, he's not going to actually eat you.”

“I knew that,” Twelve sniped, but she saw his shoulders relax the merest inch, and smiled, laying her head back against the seat and relaxing. “So, are we leaving?”

“It's time, I think. Kaliyo's going to stay here.. more chances to blow things up, I imagine. So is Dr Lokin. He is enjoying his research and work here with the Alliance.” Looking down at her hands, Nine forced herself to relax her jaw, feeling the tension through her teeth as she thought of her former crew. Mostly gone of their own volition, and even though she knew it shouldn't bother her, it stung to know they had all moved on with their lives while she was stuck in a halfway place, not of either world anymore. “It'll be you and me, kid.”

“I can work with that. We're used to each other, Nine. Keeps the circle small.”

“I suppose it does. So get a good night's sleep. We'll head out tomorrow. I've set up resupply for the ship, and I even got plenty of that bitter stim drink you love so much.”

“You'll appreciate it when I'm still awake on the next twenty plus hour waiting game of a mission. Speaking of which, though.. I have some job offers for you to go through. We need a destination once we leave Odessen. Plenty of work out there for us to do.”

“There always will be work for people like us, Twelve. It's the one constant in the galaxy; people always need to be spied on, stolen from, or killed.”

“Someone has to pay for my stim tea!”

“Why is that someone always me?” Nine said woefully, ducking the empty protein bar wrapper Twelve threw at her in response. “No, really. I'd like to know.”

“Shut up. I'm SO glad you're back, Nine. I missed your non-existent charm.”

“I know you did, Twelve, since I learned it from you. And I'm glad you're doing so well.”

“Don't go off book again, alright? You should have left me. If it happens again.. you -leave- me. Don't endanger the job or yourself.”

Nine shrugged, but knew that she would do the same thing again in a moment. Letting him die hadn't been an option then, and it wasn't one now, if she could take action to stop it. And Twelve knew, too... she could see it in the look he gave her, his dark eyes filled with a confusing mix of disapproval and appreciation.

But he didn't press the issue, much to her gratitude. It'd be their secret. 

One of many.

**Force Enclave, Odessen:**

“Jaxan. I trust you are well?” Yariele's serenity preceded her like a gentle breeze, alerting the young Jedi to her presence before she spoke. He smiled as he turned to face her, joining her at her inviting gesture. They walked through the Enclave slowly, wending their way among the others and finding a quiet corner. 

“I am, and I was pleased to see that you returned safely.” He folded his hands into his sleeves, leaning against the back wall of the Enclave. The musical tumble of water sang nearby, and the Jedi Master's quiet, thoughtful deep blue eyes met his dark brown in gentle inquiry.

“As well as Lyorek, I'm certain.” The sentence was dropped lightly into the conversation, but Jaxan felt wary nonetheless. Master Yariele had a sweetness about her, but she was not a fool, and he knew she had brought up the Zabrak Inquisitor for a reason.

“Of course.” Jaxan contemplated pretending ignorance, but knew it would be ultimately pointless; if she had something that she wished to know, she could be fairly relentless in pursuit of the truth, and he had no desire to feel compelled to lie to another Jedi, particularly one of her notoriety. “I know that you disapprove that I keep company with him, Master Yariele, but I am not asking for advice or judgment. Everyone must follow their own path.”

Yariele smiled, pushing her voluminous hood off to let it lie down her back, her dark hair cut neatly, the blunt ends brushing her shoulders. “Your path will be a rocky one, Jaxan, but that is of your own choosing. Even so, it is not disapproval that brings me to you today. I worry that you are making decisions based upon an incomplete image of who Lyorek is, as a person and as a Sith.”

Jaxan hesitated, uncertain where she was going with her comments. “You think I am not seeing him for who he is.. but I see him. I have my own flaws, Master. I can hardly pick at his. I don't need to agree with every decision that he makes to find him worthy of affection, or to enjoy his company. Their culture is not our own, and in this Alliance, it would be difficult to try to claim that the Sith have not done more than enough to pull their weight in the fight for peace.”

“Peace is not in their culture or in their character, Jaxan. They may want peace of a sort, but it is the kind of peace that comes with domination.” The older Jedi took a slow, cleansing breath, her expression unemotional, serene in the way that Jaxan was quite certain he lacked the ability to emulate. He knew he had never been someone with a difficult to read expression, but Yariele could have been hiding a million thoughts under that cool pair of blue eyes, and he would never have known any better. “I am not advocating against their presence here; given that their former Wrath is our leader, and one of their Dark Council members advises her, it would be foolhardy in the extreme. And it's not the point, in the least.. it is only an observation. All I am saying is that perhaps you are seeing what you wish to see in Lord Lyorek. He is charming, Jaxan. But it is the charm of a gorgeous viper who entices you to come closer to touch the beautiful colors, only to find yourself bitten.”

That hadn't been subtle at all. Jaxan looked away from Yariele's direct gaze, uncomfortable and not entirely sure how to respond. His cheeks grew hot almost instantly, and he folded and unfolded his hands together, fingers interlocking and then sliding apart, fidgeting nervously. “Lyo has never been anything but careful with me. He doesn't even let Nox vent her temper on me, Master Yariele. I respect your viewpoint. I know it's borne of experience, and knowledge, and tempered with your time spent dealing with the effects of the war with the Empire.”

“But...?” she prodded lightly.

“But.. we are not Empire here, or Republic. We are not even truly Jedi or Sith here, in the Alliance. We cannot afford to let our old schisms make us suspicious of our compatriots, the people we have to fight side by side with, and trust to guard our backs. I don't agree with Lyorek's decision-making process, or his ideals, and we discuss our differences frequently. He doesn't agree with my choices either, much of the time. But we can and do work together to find our common ground, and it makes us better allies to each other, despite our different backgrounds. I don't think it's helpful or productive to cling to old 'us versus them' ideas in our current situation. We all chose to come here, to fight together. We all decided it was worth walking away from our previous affiliations.” Jaxan squeezed his fingers together, feeling sick with anxiety about standing up to someone like Yariele, even about this. But Lyorek.. he could not let this talk about him go by without comment. “We should not be hanging on to old anger. I would think that you would know that most of all.”

The older Jedi looked startled, and even stung by his words, but she did not choose to respond instantly, taking time to consider what he'd said first. “Jaxan.. your master was the Battlemaster of the Order, was it not?” she inquired, her tone reasoned, calm. He nodded in acknowledgment, and she continued, “She did well by you. I have heard she is a pragmatic person. It is too bad that she did not choose to join us. I think perhaps we could have learned much from her experiences. But we have you, and we have underestimated you, I think. I apologize for that, and for my words. I will meditate on what you've said.” 

Jaxan couldn't figure out what the proper thing to say would even be in such a surprising moment, so he just bowed his head politely as Yariele took her leave, her ink-dark robes whispering around her feet as she walked away. For a moment, he felt lightheaded, astonished at his own bravery. But some small voice still was whispering in his ear that the older Jedi hadn't been entirely wrong. Maybe he was blind to Lyorek's behavior when he wasn't physically with him. He hadn't asked about missions or late night cantina trips.. what if there were things he wasn't seeing, things he didn't know about? 

No. He wasn't going to start letting Yariel's words make him doubt what he could feel happening between him and the Zabrak. Perhaps Lyorek wasn't quite as into Jaxan. Maybe there was more of an emotional connection on his side than on the Inquisitor's, but.. that was no reason to see him as the enemy, or as someone who would just hurt him. 

Getting the idea out of his head once it had rooted, however, was not easily done.


	107. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nox has opinions, but isn't interested in talking about her own weaknesses, as usual.
> 
> Quinn has some nagging concerns.
> 
> Selirah and Theron get an opportunity to talk alone.

**Lana and Nox's Room:**

Lana admitted Selirah to the room, stepping aside for the warrior before excusing herself and heading off to take care of some work. Darth Nox sat in a lounge chair, a blanket tossed over her legs and a screen with a complicated translation open on it, halfway completed. The inquisitor's blonde hair lay over one shoulder, braided in a plait that hung past her waist, and she had a steaming cup of tea next to her on a small table that she picked up as Selirah sat in the nearby desk chair. “As you see, I have not yet expired,” Nox said in greeting, her voice light and amused. “But I know you are not the sort to make idle sickroom chatter.”

“On the contrary... I'm very pleased that you are nearly healed, and I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am for your intervention on Arcann's behalf during that mission. You did me a great service that day in defending him, and in your quick thinking when you returned, despite your own wounds. You saved his life, Nox. I am not unaware of the debt I have incurred. I'm quite sure you are not, either.” Selirah crossed her legs, one booted foot resting atop the opposite knee as she leaned back in the chair. “So, as it happens, I did come here to thank you. I don't care what your reasons were. I only care that you made certain that he could return to me.”

“In the spirit of fairness, I'll admit that I had advance knowledge that something would go wrong. My visions cannot be called to heel like a trained akk dog, but when they deign to show up, they are rarely wrong. I knew what would happen, and I knew that I had to be there in order to have a chance of preventing it. The rest was … what it was,” Nox admitted, waving one hand indifferently to the vagaries of chance, the other conveying the teacup to her lips for a sip of tea. 

“I wondered if that was the case. You could have told me. I would have pulled Lyorek off the mission myself, and then you needn't have made him so angry with you as you did by stepping on his toes so publicly.” 

“No.” The diminutive Inquisitor finished her tea, and set the cup aside, resting her hands in her blanket-covered lap. “Lyorek is accustomed to my whims. Even when they anger him, he understands that I do not make such choices lightly. Damaging his trust in your fairness would not have been the best choice to make in the circumstances. You are his leader, his commander, his empress. He must believe that you are not as capricious as I.. which has the fortunate benefit of actually being true.”

Selirah's expression darkened, and she rested her cheek on her hand, elbow propped up on the desk. “They should never have put this on my shoulders, this leadership. I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate what it is doing to the people that I care about, and what it's doing to me.” The Twi'lek took a slow, deep breath, calming the spike of frustration and temper she could feel seething inside her mind, sensing the light touch of Arcann's concern where it blunted the sharp edges of her irritation. “All this has done is destroy everything important to me. Particularly Theron. He would never have been a target, if not for me, and who I am.”

“It's the price you pay for being the visible face of power. You knew it would put anyone in your sphere in danger. This is nothing new.” Nox gave Selirah a pitiless smile, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “It will always be this way, for as long as you sit on the throne. If you gave it up, what would happen to everyone here? What price would they pay for choosing to follow you?”

“You don't care about the people, or any price they might pay, Nox. Don't try to pretend that you do.”

“Of course not. But -you- do. Theron does. Lana does. Arcann is probably the only one who cares as little as I for the fate of your underlings... his only real concern is you and his mother. But that changes nothing. What would happen if you walked away from it all?”

Selirah's eyes moved away from Nox's, and her expression hardened for a moment, then slowly fell. “I'm so tired. I'm tired of living this life and seeing what comes of it. Theron could have died. He probably should have, given how badly he was treated and the shape that he's in right now. Arcann could have died. I've nearly died on likely fifty separate occasions. If it was just me.. I wouldn't care. I love to be in battle, and I always will, but... I don't want to see them die for me. If that is a weakness, so be it.” 

Nox leaned back in her seat, reclining comfortably. She shifted the pillow at the small of her back, and lay her head against the head rest. “I suppose that would depend upon who you asked, whether it would be viewed as strength, or weakness. I may not understand your bond with them, exactly, but I cannot deny the passion you have makes you formidable when crossed. If someone killed Theron, or Quinn, or Arcann... they would be wise to kill you at the same moment, or they wouldn't survive the experience. Even so... if I wanted to hobble you, all I would have to do is put a knife to one of their necks, figuratively speaking. It -is- a weakness, this love you feel. It's a strength, too.”

The shrewed look that Selirah leveled on Nox made the other woman shift uneasily, seeing the expression for what it was. Gloating. “You understand, even though you're lying to yourself about it. If it had been Lana in that prison, you would have ripped the place apart with your bare hands to find her.” 

“We're not talking about me or Lana,” Nox said primly, and Selirah laughed. “Besides.. you're not here to talk about this. You feel it too, don't you? That sense that something is wrong?”

“Yes. I wondered if you were feeling it. I can't seem to reach out to it, hold it, find out what the warning is about... but I sense it hanging over me like a shadow. We damaged the plans of the people who had Theron. Badly, even. But I still feel like there's something that we've missed.” Selirah's brief smile slipped, and she straightened in her chair, resting her forearms on her crossed leg. “I wondered if it was just me.. I haven't been feeling quite myself, lately.”

A single blonde eyebrow arched in inquiry. “Is that so? In what way?”

“It's nothing. I'm just having trouble sleeping, even though I'm tired. Always tired,” Selirah admitted dryly. “Which is to be expected, with Theron missing and so much happening, but still.. I just feel fatigued. And I'm not very hungry, either. Usually eating is not a problem for a Twi'lek.. quite the opposite. But I've felt a little off, sometimes sick. I attributed it to the situation.. but I still feel odd even with Theron back home with me. I should just have Quinn check me over to make certain there's nothing odd happening. It's probably nothing.” She shrugged, rising to her feet. “I am glad you're recovering well, Nox. You have been missed, and I mean that without reservation.”

“I hope you will see Quinn or one of the other medics if not him. Better safe than sorry, and you'd find it hard to charge face-first into every combat situation if you are throwing up in a corner,” Nox answered, her blue eyes amused. “Tell Lana I'm sleeping, if you would. It'll keep her working and not fussing over me. I won't pretend that I didn't enjoy it, but I could use a little quiet to finish this translation, and she'll just take it from me if she comes back now.” The Inquisitor rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, but the faint, affectionate smile on her lips gave the true story.

“I'll keep her busy for a while. Nox.. Thank you.” Selirah inclined her head briefly in farewell, and took her leave as Nox picked up her screen again, focusing on the translation as it filled the translucent field within the frame held between her hands. 

**Selirah's Quarters:**

Her plan to have Quinn check her over had slipped Selirah's mind during the day, and even now with him beside her on the couch the periodic insomnia and nausea and exhaustion didn't register above everything else roiling around in her thoughts. She felt fine, and his company was soothing, as was the weight of his arm around her shoulders. Curled up against his side, she dozed, half-asleep, feeling the beat of his heart under her cheek. Maybe she could just relax. Just for a moment...

“Seli..” Quinn's voice was quiet, patient, and Selirah had the distinct impression that this was not the first time he'd tried to wake her. She stirred, forcing her eyes open, taking in the expectant, slightly amused light in his dark blue eyes as he gazed down at her. “There you are. I was not certain that it wouldn't have been better to just put you to bed and tell you in the morning, but.. under the circumstances?” He shrugged, a one-shouldered gesture that was intended to not jostle her as he waited for full alertness to reach her face. “Theron just sent a message and asked if you would come see him.” 

She yawned, the lassitude in her limbs receding as she stretched her legs, flexing her toes in her boots. “Yes, of course. But it's been days...” She pulled away from Quinn, sitting cross-legged, her eyes filling with unease. “Do you think it will go better this time?” 

“I do, yes. I've been talking to him when I was in the medical bay. He's healing well, and the detox is on schedule so far.” Pausing, Quinn glanced at the datapad in his hands, then back to Selirah. “He was sorry for what he said almost immediately. Neither of you are at fault. You both need to remember that.”

She smiled, a faint, half-curve of her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Guilt is seldom rational, Malavai. You know that better than any of us. But I will try.” Selirah unfolded her legs, sliding off the couch to get to her feet, and Quinn came with her, walking the hallway at her side. She walked with her arms crossed, hands tucked underneath, and he could see the anxiety in her, written in the tension in her body. “I'll let one of the medics know if he needs anything.. I know you have other things taking up your time.”

“I do, and you need not worry about Theron going back to his duties any time soon. I will continue to fill in until I am no longer needed.” He took his leave, glancing back once to see her still standing in front of the door as if she were unsure about going inside.

 **Medical Bay:**

The door opened slowly. Halfway there, it stopped, and then inched open another foot.

“Selirah? You can come in, it's alright.” 

Theron's voice reached her around the door panel, and Selirah laid her forehead against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. She entered the room, seeking out Theron where he sat propped up against pillows in the bed. Stopping near the edge of the mattress, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, mouth feeling dry and her stomach clenching with sudden nausea. She'd planned what to say on the walk here, but now that she was looking at him, the beloved face thin and tired with shame written large in his hazel eyes, none of it seemed like the right words at all.

“Sit with me? Please?” Theron saved her from the silence, shifting to the side so that the half of the bed nearest to her was left vacant. “You don't have to..” he added awkwardly, but as he spoke, she was already sliding into the open space that he'd left for her. Theron felt the weight of her body against his, tucked in along his side the way they often had slept at night. It seemed like a thousand years ago now, after his time in captivity, but his body remembered, pulling her closer, his arms wrapping around her. He heard her make a choked, sad little sound, burying her face against the side of his neck. “Seli.. love.. it's alright.”

She clung tightly to him, her arms wound around his back, hands splayed against his skin beneath the loose shirt he wore. “I should have known right away.. I should have known. I didn't even guess when he said those things to me, when he.. Theron, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought..” Selirah shook her head, and the tips of her lekku twined around his wrists, as if she wanted to hold him everywhere at once, to make sure he was really here and not a dream. “I was afraid they would just kill you when we found out he was an impostor. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner.”

Theron closed his eyes, laying his cheek against the top of her head. The delicate, exotic scent of kibo flower oil touched his senses, and he felt the stress that seemed to never leave him suddenly dissipate. She was here, with him. He was safe, and at home, and he'd never let anything separate them again. “Don't do that, don't act like this was somehow on you. They made their plans specifically to make you believe that he was me. How could you have known? I didn't even know they had an agent here. They forced me to tell them things, to help him learn to trick you.. he had my memories of you, of the Alliance, my thoughts, my words to say. He looked like me, wore my clothes, had my face. This is not your fault, Seli. It's theirs. They wanted to destroy us, fracture this Alliance into a million pieces so it couldn't be a threat, and so we couldn't achieve our goals.” 

She nodded, her lips pressed against the side of his throat, feeling the pulse beat under his skin. “I know.. I do, Theron. But I feel sick that they took you, that someone else was here, pretending to be you. I hate knowing that you were there, alone, thinking we weren't coming for you. That they made me believe that you would turn on me, betray me.” 

“If I had been you in the same position, I can't say I wouldn't have believed it, Seli. You can't let this eat at you.”

“I'm trying. But when I look at you and everything they did to you... I want to kill them again, and take a -lot- more time to do it correctly.” 

She was warm in his arms, but the coldness in her words still struck him profoundly. He stroked one hand over the nape of her neck, fingers trailing down her back, feeling the soft grip of her tchun and tchin twined around his wrists like a caress. “Don't do this, Seli. Don't get sucked into your anger. I'm sure Arcann has enough for both of you.” She pulled back slightly, enough so that he could see the wariness in her eyes. 

“Theron.. he's fine, he's.. don't assume that because of his eyes...” she began, struggling to even complete the sentences, fighting against the urge to defend Arcann and the desire to ease Theron's mind about her own feelings of anger. 

“It's alright. I know you wouldn't have brought him to find me if he was not still himself. But I admit it was a little unnerving to see him looking at me with those eyes in the hallway of the cellblock.”

“He was on the team that brought back the impostor. I didn't want him to go.. he was so angry at you. Not you, of course, but we didn't know that then. I told them all that I wanted the traitor alive.” Her eyes cut towards Theron's, looking apologetic. “He fought the impostor and his control was pushed too far in the fight and in his extremity. Nox saved his life when he was injured badly.. she protected him when they arrived home, too. She made up a story about a flash bang grenade, his eyes being sensitive.. I led him back to our room with his eyes bandaged so no one would see. We revealed it when we'd had an opportunity to make it clear that it had not changed him. That he was still the person he has been always since joining the Alliance.” 

“Is that true?” Theron stroked her back gently, his hand moving more freely now that her lekku had fallen away to trail down the side of the bed. Her anxiety about his reception seemed to have eased, which he was grateful for; he'd never intended to say those terrible things to her days ago, and still felt guilty for lashing out that way. “Is he still himself?”

Selirah dropped her eyes, her fingers tracing over the still-prominent shape of his ribs as if she were temporizing, taking a beat to gather a proper response. “He is not who he used to be, Theron. Even so, it's unreasonable to expect people to never change at all. This was a difficult time for Arcann, in more ways than most people understand or would have reason to know. I trust him. That is what matters.” Her tone bore a warning, though her words were gentle enough. “He was angry, and hurt at a betrayal that cut very deeply. He thought you had tried to kill me, and he knew you had turned on me. And you know that he also had to contend with my own feelings on top of that.” 

Theron lifted one hand to her chin, tilting her face up, waiting for her eyes to meet his. “I know how he is, yes, and I know it's not possible for people to stay the same forever. But is he actually still in control of his anger, or are you protecting him?” 

“I'm not saying this to protect him, Theron,” Selirah told him stolidly, her jaw flexing beneath his fingertips, a tension beneath his touch. “It's the truth.” 

He looked into her eyes, but if she was lying to him, he didn't have the ability to sense it the way Arcann did. She was fiercely protective of them all; it wasn't something that she reserved for the prince by any means, but something in him still felt like she was concealing some parts of the truth from him. “Is he...” Theron began, then shook his head, trying again. “How does he feel about all of this, about me?”

“I don't know, Theron. I didn't push him on the subject, and truthfully I'm not sure that he knows how he feels.”

“And when I'm out of here?” Theron could see the lack of comprehension in her face, and he forced himself to clarify, “Is he going to want me back? You two seem closer than ever, and that's without bringing up the way Quinn looks at me. Do I still have a place in your life, Seli? In Arcann's?” 

Selirah listened to the barrage of questions, sensing his pain and the fear that he'd been pushed out in his absence. It was paralyzing to try to answer, and she faltered, unsure of how to even begin to start. If she said the wrong thing, it would make things worse for him. Staying silent wasn't an option, though.. that was obvious from the expectant, pleading look in his eyes. “Theron, why wouldn't I still love you? Why wouldn't I want you in my life? You haven't done anything that would change that.. and even when I thought that you had, I still didn't want to face the idea of losing you forever. But I can't speak for Arcann, or his feelings, or for Quinn and his. I'm not going to try to explain what they're thinking, because I can't. Only they can do that.” 

He nodded slowly, and she could see him considering her words, assessing them, deciding whether or not he could believe and accept them. “Yeah, alright. You're right, I can't expect you to tell me what they're feeling. I thought about you, in that cell. I tried not to, all of those nights, because it made me so lonely and hopeless. I didn't understand what was happening, or that you didn't realize I was gone. All I knew was that I was alone, and it felt like I'd been abandoned.” He held up a hand as she started to object, smiling thinly. “I know you didn't abandon me. I know you came for me as soon as you understood where I was. I should have always known that you would.”

“Building this Alliance, fighting the Eternal Empire, and then fighting for Iokath... everything that has happened in the meantime, and since? It's so frustrating, Theron. It isn't what I imagined my life would look like. All that seems to come of it is pain and misery for you and all of the people I care about. At some point, it became a lot for me to give up in order to.. to do what? I don't even know, anymore.” 

Theron rubbed his head with one hand, wincing at the stab of pain in his temple. “You don't have to tell me twice, but I don't want you to think that everything we've gone through wasn't worth it. You've accomplished so much.”

“At what cost? And I was far from the only one who was making it happen, Theron. We've all paid for it, for our choices.” Selirah sighed, but relented, seeing his discomfort. “I'm sorry.. I should be letting you rest. No doubt it's well past time for the medics to check you over, and I'm sure they don't want to interrupt. I'm glad that we had the chance to talk, though.”

“Quinn told me that you waited outside the medical bay. I'm so sorry that I said those things to you, Seli. That I drove you away like that.” Theron's face fell, and she wrapped her arms around him, leaning in to kiss him. Her lips brushed his, feather-soft, and withdrew before he could do anything to react or prolong the touch, but he wore a small, cautious smile when she looked at him again. “Come back tomorrow?”

“Of course.” She held him for a few seconds more, then released him, sliding off the bed and smoothing the blankets into place around him, arranging the pillows so that he was comfortable. “I love you, Theron.”

“I love you, too.”


	108. Deep Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lana finds something out of place. Or rather, someone.
> 
> Theron tries to find common ground with Arcann. The attempt meets with mixed results.

He was asleep, feeling like a passenger inside his own body. _It was a dream. Wasn't it?_

Outside of his conscious control in the dream, his eyes opened. He got out of the bed, his body feeling heavy and strange, and walked to the table by the wall. 

Clothes. He put them on mechanically, piece by piece, his hands remembering where each item went. He had no blasters, and his fingers felt for them out of habit. Found them missing. That distant voice in his head told him that he needed one, and he remembered the spare in his room. He'd go get it. He had something to do, and it was very important.

He left the medical bay, opening the door and pushing through it clumsily. His legs felt odd, sluggish, but as he moved, they began to remember how they should feel. He didn't consciously think of where he was going, but then he was there at the door. He lifted his hand to touch the door lock. He would take care of the task, complete it. It was vital that he finished the job.

“Theron? Are you alright?” A hand touched his arm, and Theron froze in uncertainty, then turned his head. Lana stood beside him, a puzzled look on her face. The irresistible impulse that had driven him to get up and come here suddenly released him, and bereft of that thrumming sense of purpose, his healing wounds began to hurt and his body remembered that it should be in bed resting. He wasn't sure what happened next, but suddenly he felt like she was retreating away from him, down a dark tunnel. The last thing he felt was his body collapsing to the floor. “Theron!”

Lana managed to catch Theron as he fell, his eyes rolling up into his head as he went down like a marionette with cut strings. Her hands kept his head from striking the floor, and she laid him down gently. Pierce and Kass skidded out of the smuggler's den that Hylo liked to refer to as a legitimate shipping hub, glancing at each other and then at Theron on the ground. 

“Isn't he supposed to still be in the med bay?” Pierce stooped, picking up the smaller man without any apparent effort, hefting him easily as he straightened to his full height. “What's he doing here?”

“Your guess is quite as good as mine,” Lana responded, her brows drawing down into a troubled frown. “It was strange.. he seemed confused when he looked at me. Perhaps he was sleepwalking.” Something nagged at her senses, but there was nothing to see now but an unconscious Theron, one arm limply swinging in mid-air from his cradle in Pierce's arms. “Can you take him back to his bed?” 

“Yeah. No problem.” Pierce's dark eyes cut towards Selirah's door, then down at the man in his arms. But he didn't say anything else, even though Lana could practically feel the questions welling up behind his gaze as he nodded to her in polite acknowledgment before heading down the hall.

Kass lingered behind, the grey-skinned Rattataki devoid of armor for once, her shorts and black t-shirt worn and surprisingly casual even for her. She crossed her arms across her chest, her pale silvery-grey eyes flicking towards Lana. “You gonna tell the boss?” she asked. If she'd been a Sith, Lana might have thought there was more to the question; some subtext that the Mandalorian woman was trying to conceal. But Kass had always been an open book, far more than her counterparts in Torian and Alyxia who were far more prone to keeping their own counsel and silent observation. As a husband and wife pair, they were extremely well matched in temperament, Lana had to admit.

“Yes, although I'm not sure there's anything -to- tell. He was not really asleep, I don't think.. but he wasn't awake either. He didn't seem quite like himself. It was strange, but I don't know if there's anything to it.”

“Maybe. I didn't see him before he collapsed, so...” Kasseri shrugged her shoulders, unconcerned. “Your call.”

“At any rate, everything's fine. It was a happy accident that you two were nearby,” Lana added, giving the Mandalorian an amused glance, and Kass grinned, opening her mouth to say something that the Sith was suddenly quite certain would be more information than she needed. “And no, I really don't want any more details.”

The bounty hunter laughed aloud, and made a dismissive gesture with one hand as she turned away, heading back towards Hylo's domain with her voice trailing behind her. “Your loss.” 

“I can live with that. Easily.”

**Odessen Medical Bay:**

His head _hurt_. 

Not headache pain, not even 'accidentally hit your head on that low doorway in the Fury that Selirah keeps insisting is fine' pain. It was so much worse than either one. Theron wasn't sure what to compare it to, and somehow he thought Arcann wouldn't appreciate it if he asked what it felt like to have an arm blown off. Right now, he wasn't sure that Arcann would appreciate being asked anything by him. The prince's face was much harder to read, Theron had quickly realized, and he wondered what the impostor had done to make him retreat so far behind his personal walls again. Either way, moving was out of the question with the brain-splitting agony filling his head, so Theron stayed in the same position he'd been in when he woke up, lost in thought.

He still had no idea about most of what had happened while he was away. Quinn was cautious about passing on any information without Selirah's stamp of approval, and the rest of the medical staff had only dropped enough comments in passing to create a lot more questions than they'd answered. 

Selirah's attitude yesterday had been strange, as well. Every word out of her mouth had sounded forced to him, as if she wasn't certain what to do with him. As if things had changed around him without his knowledge. It wasn't hard to see that she was struggling, even if Theron wasn't sure why. Was it something else that he didn't understand yet, or had she just learned during his absence that she could live without him? It didn't take a genius to see that the bond between her and Arcann had strengthened while he was gone. And Quinn... there was something in the Imperial's demeanor that was different as well. 

So much had happened here, and all of it without him. Was there even a home left for him to return to, or had the door been closed forever? 

The door. Opening the door. Why did that thought stick in his mind, as if there was something vitally important that he'd forgotten to do? 

As if on cue, the door to the medical bay opened to admit Quinn. Perfectly turned out as usual, the Imperial was followed into the room by Arcann's white-clad form. His altered, topaz eyes were a slightly darker shade than Lana's familiar bright yellow, one touched with orange at the edges, and Theron realized he was staring when the prince's brows drew down in a disapproving frown. Pulling his attention away, he turned towards Quinn as the other man approached, checking the readouts.

“You're awake. Excellent. We've got a technician en route who specializes in implant recalibration for delicate, higher end equipment. He'll be here to take a look at yours in a few hours. Theron, do you know what happened last night?” Quinn asked, his blue eyes intent on Theron's face. Arcann folded his arms across his chest, the frown still darkening his expression, but for the moment, he seemed only to be interested in listening to the conversation, not participating.

“No.. why? What happened?” Theron tried to remember if anything of note had occurred before he'd gone to sleep, or if he'd woken during the night, but nothing came to mind, and his head was throbbing so loudly he was amazed neither of the others had commented on the sound. “I don't remember anything out of the ordinary. Is there something you can give me for this headache? Feels like it's going to explode, even though I know Nine took that device out before we left the prison, so I'm pretty sure it's not going to -literally- explode. At least I hope not.”

Quinn glanced at Arcann, and the prince shrugged almost imperceptibly in return. Theron bit back the desire to scowl or ask what they were hiding; it was clear that he was supposed to remember something, but he had no idea what. The Imperial left his bedside for a few moments, returning with a shot, but he didn't administer it immediately. “Lana found you outside Selirah's room. She said your eyes were open, but that you didn't seem to be awake, or at least.. you didn't seem quite yourself. The moment she spoke to you, you collapsed. Passed out cold. Pierce brought you back here, and we monitored you all night, but you didn't get up again. You don't remember any of it?”

“I said that I didn't, Quinn. What exactly do you think was happening?” Theron looked from one of them to the other, questioningly. “I've never sleepwalked in the past, that I know of, at least.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then Arcann finally responded. “We don't know. The doctors weren't sure, and they think perhaps there was something done while they were meddling with your head, that perhaps they damaged your implants beyond repair, or caused an unexpected issue.” He paused, then continued in a flat tone, “In short, they do not have an answer for why you were opening the door to our room in the middle of the night while essentially unconscious.”

“Your room?” Theron said, stung. “Why isn't Seli here too? Shouldn't she be here?”

Arcann stared at him, his expression inscrutable. But he sounded defensive to Theron's ears when he spoke again. “Seli's sleeping. She hasn't been feeling well, and I didn't want to interrupt the first good few hours of sleep she's had in days. When she's awake, I'm sure she'll want to talk to you about it, but for now, you can talk to me.”

“I don't understand. You two are looking at me like I've done something, and I haven't. So I sleepwalked to a familiar place, to my own bed. I don't usually sleepwalk, so yes, that's strange, but I don't get what the mood is in this room right now.” Theron held Arcann's eyes, refusing to look away from him, and he saw the prince's face grow stubborn, the muscles of his jaw tensing. “Arcann.. tell me what's wrong. Please.”

Again, he saw the two of them exchange another pointed look, and some part of him felt annoyed at the evidence that they were clearly keeping things from him. Particularly that Arcann was, even though he understood that he had been left here dealing with the fallout from the impostor's betrayal, and that it'd had real effects on both Selirah and him. Their closeness was no doubt borne from the pain of what had happened to Seli on Umbara, and Theron didn't begrudge them the support they'd gotten from each other. He just wished that he didn't feel like he'd been excised from both of their lives during the time he'd been captive. 

Theron felt the sting of the needle, as Quinn gave him the pain medication before excusing himself and leaving the two men alone in the medical bay. He could almost feel the drug hit his system, still sensitive from the detox they had put him through to get him off the narcotic they'd dosed him with in the prison to keep him compliant and obedient. But the relief from pain was quick, and he couldn't help the small sigh that escaped his lips as the throbbing agony in his head began to ease to a manageable level.

Arcann sat on the edge of the bed, his cybernetic left hand resting on the blanket for balance. Before he could withdraw it out of range, Theron laid his hand over the black metal of his fingers. The prince glanced at him, his amber eyes startled. He felt Arcann's hand move under his, but then it stilled, as if he'd almost pulled it away and then reconsidered. “Theron, Lana thinks that perhaps they hid something. In your head. She says you were moving with purpose until she touched you, like you were intending to do something, and she's worried that Selirah seemed to be your goal,” the prince told him, his deep voice tight with poorly concealed tension. Lana wasn't the only one with this idea, obviously.

“You know I would never do anything to hurt her, or you,” Theron protested, and he saw doubt fill the other man's eyes, followed quickly by guilt. Arcann turned his hand upside down under Theron's, the metallic fingers curving around his hand, followed by his right hand pressing over the top of Theron's hand, enclosing it entirely in both of his hands. 

“I know that. I should have known it from the first news from Umbara about what had happened,” Arcann admitted, dropping his gaze. “Maybe both of us should have known that something was wrong, Theron. All I could do was be consumed by my anger.. Selirah was so devastated, and you don't know what it feels like being buried in her emotions. I could barely separate myself from her for days. It was like drowning. I know she didn't mean to do it, but all I could feel was her misery and her mind trying to find a way to blame herself instead of you. I was furious with you. I hated you. I wanted to kill you for what you did to her.” He fell silent for a moment, then added in a low, quieter tone, “I wanted to kill you for leaving both of us.”

Theron listened, feeling sick. He knew he hadn't done the things Arcann was describing, and that Selirah and Arcann both knew he was innocent of wrongdoing, and had come for him the moment they'd understood what had really happened. But he couldn't help feeling somehow tainted by the knowledge that the things he'd told his captors – in his drug hazes, after beatings, after being given some shred of comfort – had been used to trick her and to deceive Arcann. That the impostor had slept in his place next to them, maybe even had taken his place in other ways... he shook his head, forcing the distasteful thought out of his mind. 

“I'm sorry. I told them things, details.. I didn't understand why they wanted so much information about you, and I refused to tell them. So they forced me, tortured me, drugged me. I tried to keep fighting them.” Theron tried to pull his hand away, ashamed, but Arcann's fingers tightened lightly on his.

“Theron, look at me.” Arcann waited until the other man's hazel eyes met his gaze. “You are not to blame. None of this is your fault. Didn't Selirah say that to you already?”

“Yes, she did. But I know you don't feel the same way she does. Why are you so angry at me if you know I didn't do those things?”

Arcann was the one who let go this time, his hands withdrawing with rough haste as he stood up again, restlessly pacing. Theron watched him move, the tension in the prince's broad shoulders pulling his pristine white tunic tight and his hands clasped behind his back. “There's no reasonable explanation for it. I don't know what to say. I know I shouldn't be angry with you and I'm not even sure that I -want- to be angry with you. It's not really about you. Not precisely.”

“Is it about Selirah? Arcann, I've always known that you would have preferred for it to be only you and her. Not me, too.” Theron extended his hand as the prince strode past him, but Arcann barely glanced at him. “But I thought we'd gotten to a good place together.”

“We did. It's not that. It's not jealousy. But I suppose it's partly to do with her.” Arcann slowed down, but he didn't stop, taking a winding path through the medical beds. “This is all wearing on her so much. She's exhausted, sleeping poorly, eating badly or not at all. She was ill yesterday..” He made a face suddenly, almost comically. At least, it would have been funny on someone with a more developed sense of humor. Theron knew better than to laugh at Arcann, in this moment anyway. “And she's ill right now. She's awake,” the prince added unnecessarily. “There's never a chance for her to rest. She worries about you, and she feels guilty and angry at herself for failing you.”

“So you're angry at me because Seli -isn't- angry at me?” Theron smiled lopsidedly at Arcann, lying back against his pillows. It was no good watching him pace anymore; he'd begun to circle the bed like an angry nexu cat, and he'd only get dizzy if he tried. “Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?”

“I..” Arcann began snappishly. Then he stopped circling, coming to a stop at the foot of Theron's bed, and sighed. “Yes. I do.” He unclasped his hands, folding them across his chest instead. “Theron, it may not be rational, it may not be fair. But it's how I feel. Her heart was broken and my.. I... I felt helpless to do anything. Nothing helped. Nothing made the pain go away. And I'm trying, I am, but I've been angry for so long that I don't know what else to be.”

Theron heard the hastily covered fumble in the other man's words, but he wasn't sure what Arcann had meant to say. It didn't seem like the right time to press him on it, either. If anything, Arcann looked like he was practically vibrating in his eagerness to get out of the room, and Theron wasn't sure if it was just to get away from him, or because he wanted to get to Selirah now that she was awake. Everything felt so complicated, and unfamiliar, and like a single wrong step would cause it all to implode. It wasn't cowardice to duck the chance to screw up, was it? “You should go check on Seli.” He saw the relief fill the prince's amber eyes, and the other man rested one hand briefly on his leg in farewell. 

“You're right. I'm sure she'll want to come see you, Theron. She misses you.” 

_But you don't, do you? Some part of you wishes I'd stayed gone._ Theron didn't say the words out loud, but he realized some of his doubt must have been written on his face, or visible in his surface thoughts, because Arcann's gaze sharpened briefly, fixing on his face. For a moment, Theron thought perhaps he was going to come back to the side of his bed, maybe even confess whatever he'd hidden earlier. That he'd open up again, the way he had before all of this had opened a gulf of communication between them both. But then Arcann's eyes flickered away, going distant in the way that indicated he'd sensed something stronger from Selirah, and the opportunity was lost, falling away in fading shreds when the prince turned towards the door instead of Theron. 

When the door closed behind Arcann, Theron pulled one of his pillows over his head and lay there in his self-imposed darkness. To add insult to the injury of the failed conversation, the headache began to throb insistently again, sending stabs of pain through his temple straight to the back of his neck. He slid a hand under the pillow, rubbing the skin around his half-functioning implants, but it only grew worse by the minute until he was curled up, one arm thrown over the pillow to keep out the light, nausea washing over him in waves. When the tech got here to look at his abused implants, maybe he'd know what was causing all this pain. 

Something had to go right today. Just one thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep Sleep - Devo
> 
> _I've been caught inside a deep sleep,  
>  Sinking deeper after I forgot.  
> Sleepwalking, as I watch myself,  
> In a deep sleep.  
> I keep pretending that it's someone else._


	109. Bittersweet Symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn has answers, but Selirah isn't sure she can handle them. 
> 
> There's a lot of talking.

The floor was cool beneath her legs, and Selirah leaned against the wall, her shoulder propped up against the stone. The chill felt good, soothing. She could feel Arcann's presence in her mind, his thoughts focused on his sparring partner, his connection with the force flowing easily through their bond. It felt like the light of a sun on her senses, soothing the nausea she'd been struck with a short time ago. It'd been difficult to shield him from her bouts of sickness, but she'd done the best that she could. The last thing she wanted to do was make him double over gagging when he was in the middle of a meeting that he was attending in her stead, or lesson with the students. 

Closing her eyes, Selirah took slow, deep breaths, waiting impatiently for her roiling stomach to cease its rebellion so she could leave the 'fresher and get dressed. The sound of the door opening reached her ears, but she didn't get up. Arcann was still on the field; her instinct told her that it was likely Malavai, and a moment later, she heard his quick, even steps on the floor as he crossed the room to her side and then the whisper of starched uniform fabric when he knelt beside her. 

“You have to let me check you over, my love.” There was a very distinct tone of exasperation, but she couldn't bring herself to be insulted over his presumption. As usual, he was right. “This has gone on quite long enough, and I'm not going to take no for an answer.” Quinn's hand stroked her back, his fingers trailing down her spine slowly. He curved his hand around her waist, and she felt him pause, then spread his fingers, sliding them inward over the plane of her stomach, careful and deliberate. 

“Fine, yes, yes. You're intolerably bossy, like everyone around here,” Selirah told him in mock accusation, turning slightly at the waist so that she could see Quinn's face as she opened her eyes. There was a thoughtful look in his dark blue eyes that intrigued her, but for a moment, she couldn't help but to let herself appreciate the handsome visage before her. 

He had the oddest attitude about his appearance; perfectly in order at all times, deeply concerned with presenting the correct image, in tune with regulations, but unaware of the way all of his features came together to form such an appealing whole. Quinn had always attracted more than his fair share of appreciative stares when they had gone out together, and Selirah knew he had been aware of those at least. He was observant to a fault, and highly intelligent.. it would have been insulting to assume he'd been oblivious. But he seemed puzzled about it, as if it were a mistake.

Quinn helped her to her feet, watching her cautiously as she got up. It would have been nice to indulge in feeling insulted about being coddled, but she needed his steadying hand when a wave of nausea washed over her. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, she made herself inhale slowly through her nose, holding the breath before letting it out through her mouth. Once, twice, a third time, until the sickness receded. Straightening, she pulled away from him gently and headed into her room. 

His hand caught hers when she tried to head for the couch instead of the bed, and he drew her back, a frown drawing down his brows. “No, lie down here.” Appropriating the other pillows on the bed, Quinn propped her up against them comfortably, handing her the steaming warm cup of tea from the nearby table. “Drink this.” The words brooked no refusal, and Selirah didn't even try, sniffing appreciatively at the hot liquid. It smelled of a minty herbal blend, pleasant and soothing, and there were even a few crisp baked crackers tucked in along the side of the cup, on the saucer. 

“Why the crackers?” she asked curiously, picking one up and taking a bite. It was bland, and should have been unappealing, but once she'd swallowed the first bite, Selirah realized she was hungrier than she'd thought and found the odd treat disappearing quickly. They were strangely soothing to her stomach, and the tea was both sharp and sweet, light and gentle to the taste. 

Quinn produced more from somewhere, laying them on her saucer as he checked her vitals efficiently and then took a small amount of blood from her, sliding the sample into a portable testing panel. “It was Senya's suggestion. I told her that you'd been feeling unwell, and she told me to try this tea, and some crackers. And she seems to have been right about them, I see.” A smile curved his lips, deepening the faint lines at the corners of his eyes. 

Selirah made a non-committal sound in her throat, not quite ready to agree, especially when her mouth was full of half-chewed cracker. She watched him checking the information on his datapad, examining the results of the readings. “What does it say?” 

“Oh. I believe...” His eyes flickered towards her, oddly wary, then back to the results again. “Perhaps we should wait,” he began. 

“For what?” 

“Theron is in the medical bay, of course. Where is Arcann?” 

“He's on the field, sparring with someone... one of the students. Why do we need to wait for him? Malavai, you're starting to make me nervous. Just tell me what's happening.” She held out a hand, and Quinn laid the datapad on the table, moving to stretch out beside her. Selirah almost smiled as she caught the brief wince on his face as he predictably realized the wrinkles he'd be sporting in his impeccably pressed uniform after this, but it didn't stop him from coming to her. 

His dark head rested on her shoulder, and she ran her fingers through the strands and then let her hand trail down his back, rubbing slow idle circles with her eyes on his face. His emotions were crystal clear to her; she barely had to reach for them to feel what he was feeling. Nervous, excited, worried.. they were obvious, but there were a few thoughts that were harder to see clearly.

“I don't want to make you nervous.” He glanced up at her face, but she didn't look impatient with his obvious temporizing. Her violet eyes met his gaze, her expression intent. Quinn laid one arm across her stomach, his fingers curving against her ribcage, up under her arm. The dark lines of the starburst tatto she'd had placed over the round saber scar was visible through the thin material of the shirt she wore, her crimson skin silky against his lips as he leaned up to kiss the side of her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of kibo flower oil on her skin. Her heart leapt at the touch of his mouth against her throat, and he smiled, pleased at the reaction. 

“Do you plan to tell me, or are you going to make me guess?” Selirah said mildly, with the deceptive quiet that he knew was a veneer. She was being patient, but her indulgence had firm limits. “Is it something bad? Am I sick with something.. something serious?” 

“I'm just not sure how pleased you'll be with this information, Selirah.”

“You're not at fault for whatever it is. I'm not going to take it out on you.” She caught the flicker of amusement in his face, and scowled. “Don't laugh at me, Malavai. I'm serious.”

“It's only that... I suspect Senya must have known what I would find. Never you mind. The important part is that you're not sick. You don't have anything bad. You're pregnant.”

Selirah went still, her hand on his back stopping mid-stroke. “What?”

Quinn waited, but that seemed to be the only thing she had to say on the subject. “You're.. pregnant?” he tried again, this time with more of an uplift on the end of the word, as if he thought that being more positive about it would somehow make it sink in more quickly. 

“That's not possible,” she told him flatly. Of course it absolutely and clearly was possible for a great many reasons, and she could almost see the same words welling up in his throat, about to emerge. “Don't say it.” Quinn glanced at her quickly, and a flush of color rose in his cheeks at how easily she had read his intentions. 

“Do you want me to get Arcann here now?” he asked. Selirah could feel him tense, preparing to get up, to go bring the prince to her, and she felt a twinge of guilt that his first thought was that she would want Arcann, not him. That perhaps the baby was more obviously Arcann's, and not his. 

“I'll talk to him about it later. It's not going anywhere for a while, after all.. I have some time.” Her fingers moved again, tracing the long band of muscle up the side of his spine, then moving back down. She wasn't sure if she wanted to soothe him, or herself. It was too much to take in, and she could feel the denial wanting to overtake her thoughts, to let herself believe that it wasn't happening. “I don't want him here more than I want you, Malavai. I want you here all the time. I want to respect your space... I don't want you to feel...” Words deserted her, and she stuttered to an uncertain halt. 

“Like you love him more? Need him more than me?” he supplied in a quiet tone. “I don't think that, Selirah. The answer isn't simple and I know that as well as you do. You're not neglecting me, my love. And I'm not unaware that I could be the father of this baby. We'll find that out, if you want. If he wants.” Added dryly, Quinn's comment was pointed, and Selirah felt an unwanted smile tug at her lips. 

“You're right, he probably will want to know for certain, but.. he may surprise us both. You and Arcann may never have the kind of relationship that he had with Theron before everything happened, but he does see you as deserving of respect. He knows that I love you. He can feel it from me, and I make no effort to hide it. Right now, all of his conflict is based in his feelings about Theron, not you and I.” Breathing in deeply, Selirah released her breath in a slow sigh. “This is just.. I didn't intend to ever...” she tried, then made an irritable face. “There's never been a good time to even think about family. Theron and Arcann both, I know they've talked about it, considered it, but I discarded the idea a long time ago for myself. Look at how things tend to go in my life. How was I going to find the time to have children? Raise them safely? They'd have a target on their backs, just like you did with Baras, just like Theron has since he had the misfortune to fall in love with me. Look at me, Malavai. What sort of mother would I make?” He opened his mouth to comment, but she waved one hand curtly. “A terrible one. I don't know how to take care of myself, much less a baby.”

Quinn sat up, leaning against the piled up pillows next to her. His fingers found hers, taking her hand, holding it firmly. “I know it's not something you considered. But you knew it was a possibility, however remote, and now that possibility is reality. Ready or not, this is happening.” She laid her head down on his shoulder, her fingers twining with his, letting his presence comfort her the way it always did. He was so methodical, so efficient. No matter what the galaxy threw at him, Malavai Quinn always handled it, and then wrote a full report on it afterward. “You won't be doing this alone. I'll be with you. And so will Theron and Arcann. This isn't only happening to you, and you can't act as though it were. We are a part of it, too.” 

Selirah could feel her heart clench at his words, the emotions washing over her by turns. Relief, gratitude, love.. He had never backed down from his promise all those years ago to make up for his mistake. He had never stopped believing that they belonged together. He'd never stopped loving her. Even when she'd disappeared for five years, even when he'd been told that she was dead, Quinn had waited, certain that she would return somehow. If he had wavered in his commitment or devotion, he had never let her see it or feel it, and Selirah knew that she could never compare to the way he had loved her for all these years. She tried, she tried to love him and all of the people she cared for in the way that they deserved. 

But it was impossible. She always fell short. And now there was another person, a baby, that she would ultimately fail. It stung her pride, and angered her, feeling like she had been swept along on this insane path through life without any say in the matter. Nothing ever could be simple, not for her, not for anyone in her life. _I can't do this_ , she wanted to tell him. _Why can't this fall on someone else's shoulders? Why can't I make my own decisions, my own choices? Why can't we all just walk away?_

“You're right.” She sighed, pushing down the worry and uncertainty, both for Quinn's peace of mind and for Arcann's. “I don't know how to rely on anyone else for anything, even when I want to do it, even when I should. Theron and I have that in common.”

“Yes, you do. My love.. this is probably going to seem like an odd request. Even so, I must make it. I know that you were notified about the late night visit that Theron almost paid you, and that he didn't seem to be himself. We have someone checking him over, and while it's likely that it's just nightmares, or sleepwalking due to his ordeal, until we're certain, we need to be on alert. We still don't know what was done to him while he was there, and they had quite enough time to do any number of things to him without his knowledge.”

“Theron has been through enough. He's been imprisoned, tortured.. his identity was taken, used to destroy his reputation and very nearly this Alliance.” 

“Yes, and I'm not discounting his experiences or the abuse he suffered. Until we have more information from the specialist, however, it might be necessary for you to allow Theron to say safely under observation in the medical bay, or a separate room, rather than bringing him back here.”

Selirah sat up, turning so that she could face Quinn. His eyes met hers with unwavering solemnity – he knew her temper, knew she could find insult in anything if she wanted. She could see his expectation of that temper now, and tamped it down. He wasn't attacking Theron. He was worried about her. She took a slow breath and nodded, reversing course. “I know you are trying to protect me. I hear what you're saying, and I will keep it in mind. But I am not going to make Theron feel like we don't trust him. It would hurt him, Malavai. Very badly.” 

Quinn said nothing at first, the muscles of his jaw tensing mutinously. “Selirah, I really believe that perhaps you..” he began, and she held up a hand, forestalling his protest.

“As I said, I hear your concerns and I will keep them in mind, but I trust Theron. That's the end of the discussion.” 

Quinn's lips thinned, pressing together, and he turned away, answering stiffly. “Of course.”

Selirah could feel tension in every inch of his body where he leaned against her. He was angry, but he knew that her position made her above reproach by any metric of chain of command and protocol. It took a lot more than being stymied to make Quinn want to break that ingrained habit, and she sometimes wondered at what point he'd toss aside the rules and regulations that made boundaries around his life. She finished her tea, setting the saucer and cup aside on the bedside table, leaning over Quinn's rigidly irritated chest in order to do it. “Was there anything else?”

His frustration was as easy to sense as it was to see. Quinn pulled away from her, getting to his feet, his back ramrod-straight and his blue eyes fixed somewhere just above her head, resolutely containing his desire to argue with her. Every line in his body screamed that yes, there was something else to say, that she was being stupid and trusting, foolishly disregarding his advice. Disappointingly, he said none of it, turning towards the door. “No. I will take my leave and return to my work.”

“Malavai, wait.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and stood, a wash of nausea making her instantly regret the sudden motion. Quinn took her elbow in his hand, steadying her.

“Careful. Don't get up so fast.” Irritated as he was at Selirah, Quinn still managed a small smile. “You have always been the worst patient imaginable. I can't imagine any of that is going to change now, but even so.. you have to take into account the way that things are going to change over the next few months.” 

“Easy for you to say.” Selirah straightened, ignoring the way her stomach swam, rebelling about the bland crackers and mild tea. “Can't you work here? There's a terminal in the room.” 

“That wouldn't be the most restful situation,” he told her gently, his eyes softening. “And you wouldn't leave me to work anyway. You want someone to keep you company.”

“I'm trying to apologize.”

Quinn gave her an incredulous look. “Without using the words 'I'm sorry' a single time, or any related terminology? That's an interesting approach,” he answered. She shrugged, looking away from him. “Let's say I agree that you are apologizing. Why are you apologizing?”

Selirah took a deep breath, then let it out in an explosive sigh before speaking rapidly, the words running together. “I'm sorry I ignored your warning and shut you down and didn't want to listen to your concerns it was rude.” Her arms folded across her chest, and her head tilted towards his slightly, her violet eyes narrowed obstinately. 

“Do you need to sit down? Be dosed with a sedative? Or will you survive the pain of apologizing?” She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm, and Quinn gave a low, amused chuckle. “It's only funny when you're the one being snide, I know. I appreciate the apology, Seli.” 

“You're welcome,” she said begrudgingly, sliding past him to sprawl comfortably on the couch. “Those crackers you brought...”

Quinn's smile widened at the wheedling tone in her voice. “You want more of them.” At her nod of confirmation, he gathered up her abandoned teacup and saucer and headed towards the door of the chamber. “I'll get some more, and more tea. How about some steamed vegetables?” Selirah's nose wrinkled at the thought, and he laughed again, sounding far more relaxed than he had earlier. “No vegetables. I'll be back soon.”

Selirah sank down on the couch, pillowing her head on her folded arm. Her eyes flickered towards the door, but the hallway was empty. Her free hand crept down to her stomach, fingers spreading over the still-flat plane of her belly. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel about the prospect of motherhood. Happy? Nervous? Anticipatory? 

She didn't feel any of those things, but she -was- feeling _something_.

When Quinn returned a few minutes later, Seli was nowhere to be seen. He set the tea and crackers on the table beside the bed, and heard her back in the 'fresher, noisily being sick. Waiting a few moments for the sake of her pride, he came inside again, lifting the pale, exhausted Twi'lek in his arms without a word. Carrying her to the bed, he laid her down, propped up against the pillows, and drew the cover up to warm her chilly skin. 

“I didn't block it that time. I wasn't fast enough,” she said finally after a sip of tea, her expression crestfallen. “It just hit me too quickly.”

“Block what?” 

The answer came in the sound of Arcann's deep voice from the doorway before Selirah could respond, and her eyes were already on him as he entered. “Selirah. Can't you have him give you an anti-nausea shot? Something? I almost vomited on Sana-Rae's feet,” he complained, an embarrassed flush of color staining his cheeks, making his scars stand out in a stark white in contrast. “What is going on? Can't you figure out why she's been sick, Major Quinn?” 

Selirah glanced at Quinn, and he arched a brow at her questioningly, waiting until she nodded to respond to the prince. “She isn't sick. I'd rather not try any medications for the time being, though. We'll see if the sickness passes.” 

“That's unacceptable and ridiculous. You can't expect her to just suffer with whatever this is when you could do something to make her more comfortable,” Arcann snapped irritably, sinking down on the bed on Selirah's right side, facing her. His right hand took hers, holding it lightly, and his thumb stroked the back of her hand soothingly. Her stomach twisted, and he felt a wave of answering nausea. 

“Keella, don't snarl at Quinn. He's correct. I'm not sick.” Arcann glanced from her to Quinn, and back again, his amber eyes losing the heat of temper and becoming thoughtful. “I'm sorry. I tried to keep you from feeling it, but I couldn't block it in time. I'll try to do better until the sickness goes away. It should go away when I'm further along.” She paused hopefully, but there was no dawning of understanding in the prince's face. “I'm pregnant.”

For a moment, she was afraid he -still- didn't get it. His face didn't change, and his eyes slid over Quinn again, consideringly. Then he smiled, a slow, surprised curve of lips that tugged at the scarring that marred the left side of his face, an unfeigned look of pleasure suffusing his handsome features. “You're pregnant.. are you sure?”

She laughed, reaching out with the other hand to take Quinn's hand too, keeping him still when he made a half-hearted motion to get up and leave them. “Don't go, Malavai. I want you here. And yes.. I'm sure. If you knew how many times you -could- have been throwing up on people's boots, you'd be sure too. I think your mother was actually the first one to know.. she suggested these crackers..” 

Arcann used her hand to pull her closer to him, kissing her soundly and silencing her mid-sentence. He was still smiling when he broke the kiss, his bright molten gaze alight, the happiest she'd ever seen him look. “I don't even know what to say or do first. Quinn, you checked her over? Is she well? Healthy? And the baby too?”

Quinn looked startled at the quickly fired questions. “She's healthy, the baby is healthy, everything seems fine. Rest, hydration, healthy food. The usual regimen.” 

“Oh yes, that should be easy to follow. Rest, hydration, healthy food, all things I have lots of time for,” Selirah interjected, and Arcann shot her a narrow-eyed glance. “What? It's true. Someone will attack one of our planets, or blow something up, or start an uprising..”

“And I'll take care of it. Don't argue,” Arcann told her flatly. “You've done everything for the Alliance and everyone in it. Everything ran smoothly when I was here and you were on Iokath. I can do it again. I wish..” She could feel the pressure of his certainty in her mind, and the brush of his thoughts against hers. For a moment, a clear image of his twin filled her mind, and his grief crushed down on her before he managed to push the thought away, controlling it. “Nothing. Trust me to take care of any problems that crop up, Seli.”

“Of course I trust you, keella. I'm not ready to give up my duties entirely just yet, but.. when it's time, yes, you will take over for me.”

“Then it's settled. We'll have to tell our Th...” the prince's voice faltered over the old, familiar phrase almost imperceptibly, but he finished smoothly, “tell Theron together.” His amber eyes met Quinn's dark blue. “All three of us.” 

Selirah felt Quinn's surprise, though she imagined it was probably second to her own. She wished that she was certain that his offer to Quinn was purely about acceptance of his place in her heart and life, but Arcann's motivations, like her own, were seldom that straightforward. Added to Quinn's concerns about Theron's behavior and the possibility that he'd been tampered with invasively beyond the abuse he'd suffered, it was too much to expend effort worrying about right now. 

First, they would tell Theron.

Then she'd figure out everything else.


	110. Eyes Closed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine returns to speak to Theron, but an interruption puts her intervention on hold. 
> 
> A piece is removed from the board unexpectedly.

**Medical Bay, Odessen:**

When Theron woke that morning, the last thing he expected was to see Nine sitting at the foot of his bed. But there she was, big as life, flipping a matte black blade in the air and catching the hilt with a patient, bored precision. Her legs were dangling over the side, kicking in a slow rhythm, and she was talking to someone. 

“He's awake, signing off,” the agent said as she noticed his gaze, her full lips curving into a half-smile that didn't reach her expressionless grey eyes. Depressing an activation toggle on the comm device Theron had missed, hidden amid her dark braids, Nine turned her focus fully onto him. “I thought we should talk.”

“Talk? Who was that? Didn't you leave Odessen?” Theron asked, confused by almost literally everything about this encounter. He scrubbed one hand through his hair, realizing it was getting long.. it was starting to fall over his forehead and it was past time for him to get a trim. It was such a stupid thing to think about right now.. he felt like he was grasping for any small detail that made sense to him while his brain spooled up into full alertness.

“Twelve. Yes, I left. I was concerned, though.. so I came back. My distaste for Sith and their methods aside, I didn't want to risk the chance that you were affected by something that I could counteract, or at least prepare you to face.” Nine stopped flipping the knife, tucking it away inside her boot as she turned halfway towards him, one knee sliding up onto the bed, leg bent. “I'm still not sure what they did to you. Their technology was very significantly advanced, experimental, and without studying more and understanding what we're dealing with for certain all I can do is offer some guesses.”

“You know there's nothing that I can tell you. They kept me drugged, starved.. beat me so that I couldn't even keep track of the days in that hole of a cell. I know how long I was gone even though it seems impossible, and I don't know what they did to me any more than anyone else.” Theron rubbed his face awkwardly, trying to shake off the last of the sleepy haze still muddling his brain; he might have been projecting, but Nine was wearing a -very- judgmental expression and he was starting to believe that she thought he was an idiot. “So tell me your guesses.”

The agent tucked her foot under the opposite leg, leaning against the foot panel of the bed, elbows propped up. “There are a great many things about the Empire that you were wrong about in the Republic,” she began, her grey eyes flinty. “I'm sure you know that. You believed the Wrath was a monster, the very worst the Sith could offer. Now you follow her, trust her... sleep with her. You're surrounded by the very people that you were taught to treat like faceless enemies, and you count on them to guard your back. I'm not going to tell you that you're wrong to do so, either, at least in her case.” 

“But?” Theron prompted, sensing that she had a point beyond his opinions about the Empire and its denizens. “There's more to this than 'You're wrong, Republic scum', isn't there?”

“There are many things that you were right about, as well. Serums that force obedience, chemical mind alterations, force-user memory tricks, mental control protocols... though perhaps you know about that last one already.” Her voice turned bitter, angry, her eyes moving away from him to look stonily across the room. 

“Mental control? I don't.. no, Nine. I don't know anything about that. Why would I?” 

The real confusion in his voice brought her eyes back to his face, her gaze searching his, finding nothing but truth. He could have been lying. No one knew better than she did how much of one's life became about seamless, constant lies as an agent. But Nine wanted to believe that he knew nothing about what had been done to her by his SIS, his Republic. 

“I suppose that's true. You and me, we were just cogs in the wheel of our respective governments, doing all the hard work for none of the rewards,” she said with a quick, conspirator's smile, one that Theron returned easily. Nine wasn't sure that she could believe he was completely free from fault, but.. the SIS hadn't been run at all like Imperial Intelligence. Everything she had seen about it implied a very different methodology and a much looser level of control over sections of agents. “There are many complex methods of exerting control over a target, Theron. The Empire excelled in them, and I know of a few. I can rule out some.. the serum only works for a limited time, for example. It would be out of your system by now without a delivery system. Others are not so easy to eliminate.”

“You think they did something to me that gives them control over me?” Theron gave Nine a doubtful look, but she saw his hands flex nervously on the blanket, the knuckles whitening before he forced himself to relax them. “I've been fine, though. They cleared the drugs out of my system, checked me over.. even the implant technician that they brought in didn't find any conclusive proof of tampering. He told me as much when he was working to get them properly calibrated again, after he'd repaired the last of the damage.” 

“I can't say for certain, Theron. But yes, I think that something is wrong. I think there's a reason why it was relatively easy for us to get to you on that planet. It's very possible that we were intended to find you, and to think that that oddly simple cortex bomb was the only trap they had laid in you so that we wouldn't look deeper, or be more suspicious.” Nine straightened, elbows propped up on her knees and her chin resting in her interlaced hands. “Just humor me. Has there been any out of the ordinary events? Things you don't remember doing? Find yourself doing something you didn't intend?”

“No, Nine.. it's just been a painful recovery.” Theron rubbed his temples with two fingers, trying to think. Then he looked up, triumphant. “Wait. I sleepwalked the other night. Lana found me, outside Seli's room.. but that's not anything, is it? Why wouldn't I go to a familiar room? I want to be back there with her and Arcann. It's not really that strange.” 

Her grey eyes, long-lashed and cool, examined his face thoughtfully. He could almost see her thinking, considering his revelation. “Do you remember it?”

“The dream? No.” Theron frowned. “I felt very relaxed. Had a purpose.”

Nine hummed noncommittally, looking away from him. “What was the purpose?”

The technician's work earlier had been quick, impersonal, professional. Theron's headaches had receded and then disappeared during the session, or perhaps solely as a result -of- it and he was feeling better. More himself. Even so, the harder he tried to remember his reason for his walk the other night, the more he felt his mind resisting. It was like banging his head against a durasteel wall. “I can't remember. All I know for sure is that I had something that I needed to do.” 

It was always strange talking to Nine. Theron liked her, in a very limited 'I know nothing about you' sort of way. She was smart, if inscrutable, and he knew she was very lethal in combat. She gave the impression of friendliness; all intent attention and listening skills, displaying the right body language to relax the other person. But something was also very guarded about her demeanor. He didn't know how Nine managed to be both approachable and remote at the same time, but... somehow, she did it seamlessly. 

Right now was one of those moments. Usually, Theron could see people considering things, thinking, going through options. But Nine just got still for a while. Her expression was relaxed and empty, like a dormant droid, and she'd stay that way until she had something to add. 

“You should come with me.” 

It took Theron a moment to understand the agent's statement, but then he laughed, assuming Nine was kidding. One black brow arched over her grey eyes, politely questioning his response, and he reconsidered his initial reaction. “You're -not- joking. Um. Alright. Look, I can't go with you. I've been gone for... too long. I can't leave again. She'd never understand, and to be honest, I don't want to spend any more time apart either.”

Nine sat up, folding her arms. “I understand. But if something goes wrong, Theron, wouldn't you rather be on the Whisper where you can't put a hole in the people you care about? The worst that would happen is you'd have to tangle with me, or Twelve, and that's far less of a priority to the stability of this Alliance you've worked so hard to build. What if you had walked into that room, and stabbed her? Shot her? Killed her? She didn't believe you could turn on her before, which is why your impostor nearly succeeded in exterminating her on Umbara. Now that she knows it wasn't you, the idea that you wouldn't hurt her is reinforced. If you lifted a blaster towards her, do you even think she'd duck? You're the perfect assassin.” 

“I would never do that. I'd never do anything like that.” Theron forced himself to loosen his fingers from the fists they'd curled into automatically at her words. He was angry. At her, for her words. At himself, for not knowing or understanding what had been done to him. At his captors, for the damage they'd done to him and everyone here with their cruelty. Hadn't they all been through enough? Hadn't he been through enough? “You don't understand, Nine...”

The agent slid off the bed, rising to her full height, and Theron could see pity in the pale grey of her gaze. “I know you don't want to leave her. But it's better than the alternative. I don't say that lightly, Theron. Not to you in particular, given your recent experiences. So understand that when I do say this, I mean it sincerely. Come with me. We'll figure out what tampering was done in an environment where you can't end up hurting someone you love against your will.” Nine fell silent. Her lips tightened into a small frown, and then she added stiffly, “I speak from experience. And I know you think you're strong enough to resist. You're not.”

Nine began pacing back and forth, ending each circuit at the desk at the back of the room before turning around. Theron could see her hands shaking, but she locked her fingers together behind her back when she realized he was looking at them. He'd never seen an Imperial agent look so shaken – to tell the truth, he hadn't been certain they could feel anything. They all seemed to have ice in their veins. 

Watching Nine now, though, he saw something different behind the perfect veneer of her self-control. She reminded him of the way that Arcann looked sometimes when he spoke about his father; brittle. As if the patches applied over the damage they'd suffered were starting to break away and reveal their weaknesses. 

“You need to tell me. Whatever it is you're not telling me... I need to hear it,” he told her. Swinging his legs over to the side of the bed, Theron watched her move like a pendulum, her face empty of expression. “Tell me the truth, Nine. And if you're right, then I'll leave with you. I'll figure out a way to explain it. But you have to realize that I can't do that if you're hiding things from me. Come on. Tell me the rest.” 

Before Nine could answer him, a new voice broke in, low and amused. “She's an agent. She hides everything. I doubt she'd tell you her shoe size if you asked.” Theron twisted to look past Nine's tall form where she'd frozen in front of him, startled by the interruption. Selirah stood in the doorway of the medical bay, one hand resting on the lightsaber hilt at her side. “What a pleasant surprise it is to see you, Nine. Looking for work? I'm certain we could find something suitable to an operative of your caliber.”

“I'm afraid not, Empress.” Nine's gaze slid away from Selirah almost instantly, and she gave a precise salute before turning towards Theron. “I wanted to check on Theron and see how he was adjusting. Let me get out of your way and give you both some time alone. I'll see you later, Theron.” 

Selirah stepped into the room obligingly as Nine approached, yielding the doorway so that the agent could absent herself. There was a speculative light in her violet eyes as she turned back towards Theron. “Spy gossip, love? I don't doubt she has tales to tell, but I can't imagine she actually -would- tell any of them. And you couldn't believe her even if she did.”

“A Sith calling an agent a liar. Which one am I supposed to believe, again?” Theron dryly replied, and Seli laughed good-naturedly without taking offense. 

“Neither, if you're smart.” She crossed the room, sliding onto the bed in almost exactly the same spot that Nine had vacated, turning to lay diagonally on her back, one hand resting on her stomach over the gold-shot black of her lightly armored tunic. “I miss you.” Her free hand stretched across the bed, and Theron took it in his. Their fingers entwined easily, and he saw her lips curve into a wider smile. “Get your things. We'll get you settled back where you belong. With me.”

“I want to do that. But Nine was telling me that it might not be the best idea. Not yet. She thinks..” 

Selirah made a derisive noise in her throat, interrupting with a firm, “It doesn't matter what she thinks. We've been apart for too long, Theron. You shouldn't be here alone. You're recovered, and any further treatments can be given to you from our room. Quinn will handle that.” She tugged on his hand, and he bent over her, leaning down to kiss her. 

Nine -could- be wrong. She had even admitted that she wasn't positive that he'd been tampered with further. Selirah's arms drew him down over her, and Theron pushed Nine's worries out of his thoughts. “I miss you too,” he whispered against her lips, feeling her smile even though he couldn't see it. “I've been dreaming of sleeping next to you for so long. I'll even be happy when you shove me halfway across the bed and steal my pillow.”

Selirah laughed, biting his lower lip gently, then cupping his face in her hands and kissing him with slow, languorous pleasure. “It's not stealing if you don't object. And you never do,” she told him cheerfully. “Before we go.. there's something I want to tell you.”

Theron pulled back slightly, enough so that he could look into her face without his eyes crossing from proximity. “Good news, I hope?” Her expression didn't quite ease his concerns – she looked uncertain or maybe nervous. He could feel her hand stroking down his back in long, slow motions, but he wasn't sure if the gesture was intended to soothe him or her.

“I suspect that depends upon your feelings on the matter. I haven't quite decided if I'm happy about it myself.” 

Releasing her, Theron rolled onto his side, propping his head up on one hand, and she moved to mirror his position on the other half of the bed, her head resting on his pillow. She folded it in half, fussing with it unnecessarily. “Just say it, Seli. The more you drag your feet, the more worried it makes me.”

The Twi'lek nodded, a quick movement, taking a deep breath as if she were trying to just force the words out with the air. “I'd been feeling.. ill, for a while. Quinn made me go through a battery of tests, trying to narrow down the cause.” Her hand slid over her hip, fingers spreading over her stomach in an unconsciously protective gesture. 

Theron's eyes dropped to her hand, and suddenly he understood. “You're pregnant?” She looked grateful to not have to say the words herself; all she did was nod in agreement. “That's incredible! Wait. I know that face. You're not happy about it?”

“No. Why should I be?” Her fingers curled, the nails scraping across the woven armor that she wore. “That's not my dream, Theron. It never has been. I'll be weak, trapped by my body until the baby is born. I have lived this long by being strong.” Theron didn't need the force to hear the thread of fear in her voice beneath the matter-of-fact delivery. To her, it must have felt like being a wounded predator, surrounded by scavengers that were waiting for her to falter so that they could attack. “I know what happens to the weak.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you. You're safe here on Odessen, Seli. You're surrounded by defenses, and even if something got past the fleet, the Skytroopers, our forces, -and- Broonmark... and you know that no one is getting past that walking carpet of yours..” he paused, looking into her violet eyes, and was relieved when she smiled. Even if it was a very small one. “They'd never get past me, or Quinn, or Arcann. One of us will always be with you. Nothing will happen. I think for once... you might have to let us protect -you-. But that doesn't make you weak. Everyone needs help every now and then. Even you.” 

“Not all of the dangers are outside Odessen.” She rolled onto her back, the pillow unfolding flat again under her head. Her lekku wrapped around her shoulders, curving with lazy grace into two loops that lay over her chest. “Just the same, I suppose you're right. How did the appointment with the specialist go, Theron?”

“Boring, at least for me. I even slept through part of it, but he put me out on purpose for that.”

“Put you out? What do you mean?”

Theron shrugged easily, a half smile curving his lips at the way she'd taken over his bed. Annexing sleeping spaces was an unconscious habit with Selirah.. they'd never slept anywhere, even on a transport, where she didn't shove someone – usually him – over in her sleep so that she could sprawl more comfortably. “He said I needed to be -very- still while he did some of the more delicate work, so he gave me a reversible sedative. It wasn't a big deal. I got to have a nap while he fiddled around, and when I woke up, I didn't have a headache anymore. Can't even tell you how much of a relief that was.”

He could see Selirah thinking about it, her eyes focused on the ceiling. “It was successful, then? He helped? Did he say that your implants were fixed?”

“Of course, love.” Theron felt a twinge of guilt. Nine's words echoed in his head, and he knew he should tell Selirah what the agent had told him. The more he thought about her concerns, though, the more he felt that they seemed ridiculous. His captors had done enough damage to him. To all of them. Letting them make him doubt himself was just putting himself back into their control. “Everything will be fine. The headaches are gone, my implants are working perfectly. Hey, I can slice into Acina's HoloNet accounts for you, if you'd like. Or better yet, Kasseri's. Or Gault's? I'm happy to show off.” She laughed at him, and Theron felt his shoulders relax slowly. Yeah.. everything -would- be fine. Nine was paranoid, and not without reason. Who wouldn't see enemies and shadowy conspiracies everywhere, after working with Imperial Intelligence for so long? 

He was finished letting his hellish time in that prison hurt him. He wanted his life back. 

“Ready to go? Let's get you settled in.” Selirah sat up and took his hand, sliding down off the bed and pulling him after her impatiently. Pushing his lingering doubts about Nine's warning into the back of his mind, Theron tugged on her hand, pulling her in against him. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her repeatedly in rhythm with their steps as he walked her backwards towards the door, before he released her, enjoying the dazed, happy light in her eyes.

“Can't wait.” 

**Prison Cell, Odessen:**

The lights flickered and went out abruptly in the small lockdown area. The impostor sighed in exasperation, tucking one hand behind his head, but he didn't have long to wait before they came back to life as a nearby automated generator kicked in. It took him a moment longer to realize that he was no longer alone in the room. 

A small, nondescript man stood in front of the containment field that made up the front of the impostor's cell. Beneath his coveralls, a flexible bodysuit showed at wrists and neck, glittering with armored filaments woven into the fiber. There was not many details about him that drew any notice. His hair was a dull brown, cut in a utilitarian style. He had no scars, no distinctive marks. His thin lips and small nose were unremarkable. The only interesting thing about him was his eyes. Dark and small, they had a reptilian emptiness, one that the impostor knew very well because he saw it any time he looked in a mirror. Mimicking his target's expressive face had been the hardest part of playing Theron Shan. 

But now his time was over.

“I did my job,” he said conversationally. The man before him was thorough; he would have already cut any surveillance feeds to the cell, and silenced the room. There would be no trace of his presence once he had done his job. They all served in their way, and this man was the clean up. 

“You did.” The containment field flickered and disappeared. “Your sacrifice is regrettable.”

With no barrier between them, there was no more need for speech. And within a moment, the impostor was incapable of it anyway, his purpose served. 

The field came back to life, and the lights went out again for the briefest of moments. When they returned online, illuminating the space, the forgettable man who also was the specialist who had been working on Theron's implants was long gone, on his way back to his ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, y'all. 
> 
> There's so much going on right now that time to really sit down and focus on writing is at the very bottom of my To Do list, and it's going to be a little slow for a while longer. The TL;DR version is that we have been job hunting for a while, but finally got a job in another state and we're moving. I'm not moving till the end of the school year so Mini-Tashlen doesn't have her year disrupted, though. My husband's leaving next week (right after our 15th anniversary. ;) ), and then I'm single parenting it for a few months and getting the house ready to sell while finding a new one there.
> 
> It's a lot of stress, and a lot to juggle. I promise I'm not putting this aside or forgetting about it, and it's absolutely on track to finish like before. It's just tough to find my creativity right now because of all the things I'm having to handle, so I'm hoping once he's settled there and we're adjusted, I'll feel more like my usual self. 
> 
> I don't usually go into much detail about the RL stuff because it's generally pretty irrelevant, but I didn't want you to think that I was going to leave this unfinished, or that I was running out of steam. It's not Damages' fault, it's the insane stress of corporate job hunts. ;) 
> 
> But I'm still here, I'm working on some shorter one shots that are a little easier for me to knock out in my free time, and I appreciate you all so much for sticking with me and being patient while I slogged through all this annoying RL crap. 
> 
> Much love to you all, and Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> (Oh, and the song title is Halsey)


	111. New Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Arcann have some face time, and some uncomfortable truths are revealed.
> 
> Selirah gets pushed into a conversation that she doesn't want to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay. I was in the new city for a week looking at houses (largely a bust in that department) and I just need less on my plate. 
> 
> Real life needs to leave me alone so I can go back to my hermit shell and write. ;) 
> 
> I hope this makes up for the wait. <3

**Selirah's Private Quarters:**

Stretching slowly under the warmth of the covers, Theron opened one eye, glancing across the deserted expanse of the bed. Selirah was gone, her spot in the middle vacated, and the sheets were cool when he touched the empty space. The temperature indicated that she'd been gone for a while, so Theron figured that it must be later than his usual wake up time. But he wasn't alone in the room. He could hear the distinctive hum of a lightsaber in the front half of the room, and the rhythmic zap sound of a training droid firing small energy bolts. 

He pulled the covers down slightly, propping his head up on one arm. Arcann had most of his back to the bed at the moment, his attention on the floating spherical droid. It fired at him, and he met it easily with the gold blade of his saber, the collision making a crackling, fizzling sound. The prince wore an ivory tunic and breeches, the sleeves on his shirt long enough to cover the juncture of his prosthetic arm and his scarred torso. His movements were quick and sure, almost impatient, but his focus seemed absolute until he spoke, evidently perfectly aware that Theron was watching him. 

“Did I wake you?” The deep baritone rumble was mild, but Theron didn't need the force to tell him that there was anger underlying Arcann's apparent calm. Ever since they'd brought Theron back to Odessen, since that first moment in the corridor of the prison when he'd seen the hostile amber gaze fall on him, it felt like the prince was always angry. “She had some things to take care of this morning, but thought it would be good if I stayed here until you were out of bed.”

Theron wanted to answer, keep the bland conversation properly on track the way that Arcann clearly expected of him. It was very obvious that the other man had no desire to talk about anything more in depth than the most simple of talking points. He watched the saber effortlessly intercept several more bolts, and then he found himself saying something entirely different than he'd intended. “Will your eyes go back to... I feel like normal is the wrong thing to call it. Will they go back to blue? Or is this change a permanent one?”

The words fell into quiet like a rock hitting a glass pane, and as Arcann's head swiveled towards him, Theron instantly regretted his impulse. Then the droid, unattended, zapped Arcann in the upper thigh, and he started cursing, and the pressure of the moment changed. Disengaging the droid, the prince deactivated his saber, crossing to the bedside table and laying the hilt down. He picked up a folded towel from the foot of the bed, and wiped his forehead and the back of his neck, his expression inscrutable. 

“I am not certain. Neither is anyone else. Darth Nox says that it is simply an expression of my emotional state, but even she will not openly promise that they will go back to blue again.” Arcann sat down slowly on the side of the bed, bringing his left knee up onto it. His hands twisted the towel idly, as if he'd forgotten that he was even holding it and was just fidgeting. “Selirah likes them. I do not. Everyone looks at me as if I were an unstable quantum bomb. As if I might start killing people at any moment.”

“Seli says you're fine. That there's nothing to worry about. No one would know that better than her, except you. Do you -feel- fine?” 

The amber gaze narrowed slightly, but Arcann only shrugged, his right shoulder rising and falling smoothly under the loose woven fabric of his tunic. Sweat marked the linen in a line down his back, and Theron felt a completely inappropriate stir of interest, fisting his fingers in the blanket to stop himself from indulging in a sudden urge to touch the muscle he could see beneath the wet, clinging cloth. They -were- in bed, and before he'd been taken by his captors, it would have been perfectly normal for him to touch Arcann, to coax him closer. To feel his weight over Theron's body, his hands on his skin. 

Well. That certainly wasn't helping his concentration at all. Theron looked up at the ceiling, taking slow, deep breaths and trying to just listen instead of working himself up pointlessly.

“Sometimes I do. I feel like myself, Theron. I don't know what I'm supposed to do differently.” Arcann sounded exasperated, but Theron didn't look at him to see if the emotion was written on his face. Scarred as he was, sometimes Arcann's emotions didn't translate fully into his expressions anyway, and quite truthfully, the scars had never done very much to make him less attractive, so for the moment, discretion was definitely the better part of valor. “Sana-Rae thinks that I should spend more time meditating. Jaxan has offered to help, to lead me in cleansing my thoughts. He believes that perhaps the answer is something that I am not capable of seeing; some feeling or emotion that I have yet to realize is germinating within me.”

“Meditating can help,” Theron offered diffidently. “My experience isn't anything like yours, but... Jax could have a point. Are you going to try it?” 

Since he'd returned from the medical bay, they'd all slept in the same bed, but things weren't the same. Not between him and Arcann, anyway. Selirah had pulled Theron into her arms the first night as if nothing had changed for her, and likely as not, nothing had in her mind. It didn't seem to matter to the Twi'lek what was going on around her; she just adjusted and kept barreling forward. An unstoppable force, that was Selirah. But Arcann had held himself aloof, falling just short of actively being hostile, and Theron wasn't sure how to reach out to him to try to mend whatever had changed in his absence. He didn't even know why their closeness had fractured in the first place. 

Arcann's jaw flexed tightly as he considered the question. It didn't seem to matter what Theron said, or how he said it... the response was always this borderline irritation from the prince. It was disheartening, to say the least. “I don't know. Seli rarely meditates,” Arcann began, his words trailing off sullenly, sounding exactly like a child trying to weasel his way out of an undesirable chore, and Theron felt his lips curve up into an amused smile. “It's not funny, Theron.”

“That's your opinion,” Theron retorted, and briefly thought he saw an answering gleam of humor in Arcann's topaz eyes. “She does meditate, you know. But she likes to be alone when she does it, most of the time. It's disorienting for her to be disturbed, like that time you startled her.”

“It was about more than just me breaking her concentration, in that instance.”

“Yeah, that's true. Look, what I'm trying to say is that I hope you don't discard Jaxan's idea because he's not like Seli. I know the two of you are pretty tightly entwined, because of the link that you share. But you're not her. And that's not a bad thing. What works for her might not for you, and vice versa. I don't want you to feel isolated because of this when it's something that you could change. Meditating could help, and maybe Jaxan is right. Maybe there's something eating at you that you're not seeing.”

Theron saw Arcann's shoulders tense, his scars growing pale. Some part of him expected the bigger man to flare into a show of temper, but instead, Arcann sighed. His shoulders lowered, relaxing, and he even smiled after a few moments, a small quirk of the right side of his lips. “You could be right, too. Theron, I do know there was something off-balance. I knew after it happened, and Nox was badly injured protecting me when I lost control of my emotions and my temper.” The amber eyes shifted towards Theron, then dropped away, fixing on the rumpled bedcovers instead. “I don't know why I'm so suspicious of you. It made sense to be angry then, but I have no reason for it now, and yet I can't make myself stop feeling that kernel of mistrust and resentment when I look at you. Theron.. I am sorry for it. I don't want to think these things. Not about you. But something feels wrong. Something feels off. And I can't explain it any better than that.”

The words stung. Theron knew he should be glad that Arcann was talking to him at all, much less that he was opening up this much about something that it was obvious he didn't want to speak about or deal with at all. But it still hurt to hear that he didn't trust him, and it reminded him unpleasantly of Nine's concerns and her offer. What if they were right, and there was something wrong? Could he really be a danger to the people he cared about? It had seemed like a ridiculous, silly idea in the beginning, but.. he had to admit that he was starting to feel worried. The last thing he wanted was to leave, particularly now. He'd already been gone for so long, and so many things had changed. If he accepted Nine's offer, there was no telling how long he'd have to stay away from Seli, and from Arcann. It'd be more time spent apart. More time with life here going on without him. The idea of it was depressing. 

It was probably a little early in the day for a drink. Theron was tempted anyway, but he pushed the idea down, focusing on Arcann's words and his own answer. “Nine came to talk to me,” he began with reluctance. “She's worried that there's something more that we failed to find. That they tampered with me.” He laid his arm over his face, covering his eyes. It felt impossible to look at Arcann's face while he spoke. He was afraid he would see judgment there, or anger. It was bad enough to think that Nine could be right about what his captors had done to him. Watching Arcann withdraw from him, or worse, losing their unexpected relationship entirely because he'd refused to acknowledge something was wrong? It felt unbearable. “I didn't want to hear what she was saying. She wants me to leave with her, to keep Seli and you and the others safe, and she thinks she can help. But all I could hear was the idea of leaving again and it felt like the worst idea ever. I couldn't face it. I didn't even want to tell Seli what Nine had said.”

Arcann's weight shifted on the bed, and Theron felt him lie down, stretching with a soft expulsion of breath as he relaxed. “She wouldn't have believed it either,” he admitted, his deep voice soft and thoughtful. “Seli can't see anything beyond having you back with her, Theron. Nothing else is going to get past that for the time being. Not for her. I thought I would feel the same when we found you, and when I didn't, I was worried about it. I started to wonder if it was about my loss of control; that I was letting the old resentments take root again. Over time, I have realized that it's not that. The more I think about it, the more I have come to realize that I am sensing something that feels wrong to me.” There was another sensation of movement, and Theron almost froze as he felt Arcann's left hand touch his arm. Carefully, the cybernetic fingers closed around his wrist, drawing his arm away from his face and guiding it down to the bed. 

Theron looked up into his face, realizing that the fierce topaz color of Arcann's eyes did suit him as well as the pale blue that was his natural color. The prince's intense personality often put others in mind of a predator, like a nexu, or a vorn tiger; all power and dominance. The disconcerting eyes made the impression all the stronger. As much as he wanted to cover his face again, hide from the conversation's implications, in the face of the piercing yellow gaze mingled with the oddly soft line of Arcann's mouth, he couldn't make himself do it. It felt like cowardice to try to hide when he could see the struggle Arcann felt about his warring feelings. “Do you think I should go with Nine, then?”

“Would you do it, if I did?”

“I don't know.” Theron was all too aware of the prince's fingers, still wrapped around his wrist, the metal slowly warming from contact with his skin. They'd been so close before he'd been taken, and he wanted to have that connection back somehow, if it was possible. Arcann had felt something too, he was certain of it. “What if it just made things worse between us?”

“If it can get you better and remove the worry of you hurting people that you love, you should be willing to sacrifice, Theron. I know it's not what you want. Seli won't be happy about it, and neither will I, but if we could really have you back as yourself with no traps in your head, it's not reasonable to say no. What if something happens? What if you hurt someone?” Arcann's fingers loosened, and he released Theron's arm and stretched out on his back, the bright irises disappearing when he closed his eyes. “It's not what I want. I do want you back with us, despite how it may have felt since your return. We have -both- missed you, not just Selirah. I'm not sure Quinn would agree – he likes working with Lana, and now...”

“I know. Everything is complicated.” Theron turned his head to look at Arcann, cognizant of the space between them. He had no idea how to bridge it – Selirah's enthusiastic pretense that everything was fine clearly hadn't affected Arcann's feelings about him, and he had no idea how to prove that he was alright when even -he- doubted himself after everything Nine had told him. But leaving again.. “What do you think about Quinn? Has he... I mean.. did she..” Theron gestured awkwardly at the bed, and Arcann opened his eyes, glancing at him blankly before understanding dawned. “Have you... ? All of you.. Shit, you know what I mean, you could stop me any time. Come on.”

The look on Arcann's face went from comprehending, to curious, to amused in the span of a second or two, and he started to laugh. The deep, rich sound of it erased the tightness between Theron's shoulderblades, and he couldn't help the answering smile that touched his lips. “You get tongue-tied at the oddest times,” the prince observed. “Quinn is not like you, Theron. He and I have an understanding with each other, and I cannot pretend that Selirah's love for him...” Arcann's smile faded, erased as something passed over his face that looked very much like resignation. “It makes it almost impossible for me to hate him. That much is similar to how things were with you, but nothing else is the same. Quinn is private, and he seems to view you and I as necessary obstacles. There's nothing in him that suggests he would care to share his private living space with us.”

“He can't really be content to only see her when she chooses to join him, though,” Theron objected, confusion filling his voice. “That doesn't make sense. You would never have accepted a diminished role like that.” 

“Of course not.” 

The stiffly offended expression on the prince's face was amusing, but Theron felt no urge to laugh. It made no sense to him. How could the Imperial possibly want to accept such a limit? Even knowing what he did about Quinn's history with Selirah, and how complicated their relationship had been over the years, it still seemed impossible. What would he stand to gain from standing aside, even in light of the fact that he'd come back into her life when both he and Arcann had been in an established relationship with her for some time? “Then why would he do it? Can you sense anything about him when you're around him?”

Arcann stretched slowly, a luxurious, catlike movement, his bright gaze thoughtfully considering the question. “His devotion is... bone deep. It's who he is. I've never felt jealousy from him when he's with Selirah and I. He -is- very calculating; smart and patient, and occasionally devious and dispassionate. He reminds me of Nox sometimes in that way. I can sense that he's considered removing me, and what it would entail. Just as clearly, he discarded the idea, then adjusted his expectations.. much like I did when confronted with the knowledge of him. It's obvious that Quinn would die before he'd ever fail Selirah again, however, and his commitment to her is absolute. I respect that about him.” 

Theron rubbed the bridge of his nose absently, then his temples. “You know how she is, Arcann. She'll just ignore the idea that she should talk to all of us about how things will look going forward. She always thinks that if she doesn't deal with it, it'll work itself out.”

“Isn't that usually what happens?” Arcann asked dryly. “She would never stop any of us from walking away, if it was what we wanted to do. Are you going to be the one to do it?”

Theron sighed, exasperated. “Over Quinn? No. I just don't understand how he is going to fit in with us. If we are even still.. an us.” Daring a surreptitious glance at Arcann, he saw the prince watching him with inscrutable attentiveness. There was no hint of what he was thinking written on the handsome, scarred face – Arcann loved to keep his thoughts close to his vest until he was ready to share them, if ever. “I wish you'd talk to me about..”

“I know, and I will.” That attentive look shifted suddenly, and Arcann sat up, pushing the sheets off his hips and rising from the bed. “I have to go, but we can talk more this evening, Theron.” 

Theron knew that laser-focused look; it meant Seli was searching for Arcann, or that something in her emotions was calling to him. He stirred himself from the comfort of the bed as well, pulling open the bent handle of his storage locker, dressing with less haste than Arcann, who was already down the stairs and heading out the door with his purposeful stride. 

It was funny to think that Arcann's assessment of Quinn had been that the man was devoted to Selirah, or maybe just funny that the prince had stated it as though it was something that he didn't fully understand. The strength of the bond that he shared with her colored his emotions heavily at times, and it made the depths of their communication with each other something that Theron would never fully comprehend. They had a knowledge of each other that was instinctual and permanent, a lifelong link that they would share until death, and possibly beyond. What could be more devoted than that?

Arcann's love for her was based in the security that their bond brought to him, which was something he had never experienced before, due to his father's cruelty. He'd been searching for someone to connect to, and Theron could understand that desperation all too well. Needing someone to love him back? That was a common link that he and Arcann shared. That they'd both found it in the same woman had led to them also finding a bond with each other, one that he missed sorely. This conversation had made him feel hopeful that their estrangement was not a permanent gulf. 

Arcann's comments about Quinn's devotion did make Theron wonder if the Major was more like him than he'd initially imagined. It could be that there was common ground there that he hadn't seen, and a way to gain a better understanding of the aloof Imperial.

Or maybe he was just searching for a way to avoid thinking about Nine's worries. 

Sinking back down on the bed, Theron dropped his boots on the floor, burying his face in his hands before he let himself sink back into the bed, pulling the covers over himself. Maybe hiding wasn't the answer, but it was -something-.

**War Room:**

Leaning against the railing behind the holo table, Selirah closed her eyes as the argument went on around her. Lyorek's snide interjections every time the discussion seemed to be heading in a productive direction were not helping, but they were not nearly as destructive as Darth Nox's poisonously sweet remarks to Senya, Nine, and Lana about internal surveillance. 

“No one -deserves- privacy, not when it relates to defense,” Nox said, interrupting Senya. The older woman's expression was tight with frustration, an emotion that Selirah was well familiar with already today. “We cannot afford to stint on observation when it can lead to problems like this. I'm not saying that it's necessary to observe people in the privy, but why wasn't there a better redundancy built into the cameras in the cells? It's ridiculous that someone should be able to bypass them so simply.”

Nine made a rude sound, and Selirah could almost feel Nox's temper ramp upwards by several percentage points at the disrespect the agent was emanating like a particularly nauseating perfume. “It wasn't simple, Darth Nox,” Nine replied coolly, offering the smaller woman her title with a very faint but obvious hint of mockery in her voice. “Not in the least. Almost no one in this base could have done what the intruder did to block your surveillance. In fact, I'd venture to say that there were only three people on Odessen at the time who could have achieved it, and I am one of them.” 

“Let me guess, our clever Theron is another.” Lyorek's red-gold eyes flickered cautiously towards Selirah's face, but she still had her eyes closed, emboldening him to continue, “If nothing else, he could have some insight into how it was done. And it's reasonable to say that we should perhaps talk to him about that night. Just in case. After the other night's events..”

“No.” Arcann's voice, flat and unyielding, cut into the Zabrak's proposal, and Selirah's lips curved into a faint smile as she raised her head. Her eyes opened, following him as he joined the group, his solid presence halting near her side. His cybernetic hand brushed her fingers, and she felt the tension slide from her shoulders, relief filling her thoughts. “Theron had nothing to do with the security breach.” His tone brooked no dissent, and there was a brief, uncomfortable silence as the others regrouped. Nox's coolly assessing blue eyes took in the prince's expression, and Selirah's. She shrugged, surrendering the battlefield.

“Of course. No one here is implying that he was at fault,” the Inquisitor temporized, a blatant lie that Selirah allowed to pass. It wasn't worth the argument; everyone knew that Nox trusted no one but herself, and Lana. “But we need to know how this happened. Someone... not Theron, or Nine, so presumably the third person she referenced.. cut the feed, blocked surveillance methods, got in to kill the impostor and out again without anyone the wiser. No alarms were raised. Whoever it is, if we're … sticking to the idea that no one else could have done it, is long gone and probably out of easy reach of retaliation. Even if we -could- catch up to them, it's obvious that they were cleaning up their messes.”

“That's true,” Lana agreed, sounding and looking as tired as she probably was. The adviser had been up hours before everyone else – the first one confronted with the news that the impostor had been murdered in his cell. “For all we know, the perpetrator has also been eliminated. I'm sorry, Selirah, but I think we can't avoid the implication that Theron's former captors are still trying to complete their plan.”

Selirah's fingers curled into fists. This all kept pointing back at Theron, no matter what, and she hated it. “No, I quite agree.” Though the words were obviously forced, she knew they were necessary. Lana was correct, and so was Nox, which was an admission she hated even more than any implication of Theron. “The specialist's credentials were checked, I assume.”

“Of course. Exhaustively. But we've faked such things ourselves to get onto a planet. It's not impossible to do,” Lana replied, giving Nox a grateful smile as the Inquisitor slid her own untouched mug of caf over. Lana sipped from the cup, glancing at Nine. “He -is- the third, yes? Is that the case?”

Nine nodded. “He absolutely would have had the skill and ability, and access to the necessary tools. After the initial meeting this morning, I did some digging, and the man we were expecting to arrive went briefly missing for a time several weeks ago, then resurfaced with a story about taking personal time. I was not able to verify any details about his whereabouts to confirm the story. It's entirely possible he was replaced in a similar manner to Theron. It didn't need to hold up to scrutiny as well as Theron's impostor did, so it would have been possible, theoretically, to do a bit of a rush job on someone none of us had met or were likely to ever look too closely at while he was here,” she continued, walking slowly across the breadth of the room, her hands tucked neatly behind her back with Imperial precision. “They knew we would need someone with his skills. The damage to Theron's implants was likely calculated to produce this outcome and necessity, and the cortex bomb as well, which explains why it was so easily removed.”

Draped artistically over a makeshift seat made of a few stacked crates, Lyorek rejoined the conversation with an acerbic, “Then we've walked obediently into the trap they laid for us. The murderer is gone.. but we would have killed the impostor anyway, once we'd tried to get more information from him. Which we would have probably failed to do. It was clear he hadn't struggled against his death. He was prepared to die once his purpose was fulfilled.” The Zabrak shifted slightly, one black swathed leg bent, the booted foot propped up on one of the crates. “The question is, what is their next move, and from which quarter will it come? Surely you can see that we must speak to Theron.”

“What is it that you imagine he will know? He was a prisoner. They operated on him, tortured him, starved him. It's not as if he was in on their plans or had the opportunity to overhear them, Lyo.” Selirah felt Arcann take her hand with his, the gesture surprising her. Like her, he rarely was publicly affectionate; when he chose to show his support openly like this, it was always a shock, but a pleasant one. And, she had to admit that currently, she needed the touch. She let her fingers wrap around his, her mind circling the problem they faced, trying to find the best route of attack.

Nox glanced at Lana, and the two women exchanged a shrug. Lyorek swung his other leg slowly, watching Selirah expectantly. Nine looked disinterested. The only one who spoke up was Senya, her low voice quiet and patient. “You can talk to him. See if you can tease out any details, anything that might be lingering in his mind from his time there. We can't keep flying blind on this, and you know that's true, for your sake.” She stopped there, but Selirah saw her attention shift for the barest second towards her son. 

The weight of their expectations pressed down on her shoulders, but Arcann wasn't looking at her. His gaze was fixed on the empty holo table with absent focus, the amber eyes half-lidded. She could feel him, a bright, powerful presence, his emotions mingling with hers. A pulse of sympathy poured through the bond, his understanding soothing the sting of the fact that Senya, Lana, Lyorek.. even Nox – that they were right. She needed to talk to Theron, to see if he could tell them anything. There was no way that they were going to get ahead of this otherwise. She hated it, hated the idea of having to make him relive those weeks. 

Arcann's fingers tightened ever so slightly, squeezing her hand in response to her frustration, and she leaned against his shoulder and accepted the wordless support. “I'll talk to him. But you need to try to find anything that you can. Nine.. will you stay? Your expertise would come in handy.” 

The agent nodded curtly. “Time, I imagine, is of the essence. If they are eliminating proof of their involvement, their plans are in motion. We need to be certain no unauthorized visitors are on Odessen, and see if we can track down any information about the specialist's whereabouts.” 

“Thank you.” Straightening, Selirah stepped away from the railing. “We'll re-convene tomorrow morning with any new information.” 

The others were already drifting away as she left the War Room, but the moment they entered the corridor near their chambers, Arcann stopped her. She leaned against the rough-hewn stone of the wall, one hand resting on her stomach, feeling it roll uneasily with nausea. 

“You have to get everything under control before you talk to him. You're making yourself ill.” 

“That's -not- what is making me ill. As well you know.” Selirah closed her eyes, the cool wall easing the sickness somewhat. “I don't want to do this, keella,” she continued a moment later, her voice quiet. “He's been through so much.” Arcann stepped closer, resting one hand on the wall by her shoulder. His head dipped down near hers, and she reached up, her fingers brushing over the stubble of his close-cropped hair, noticing that it was a little longer than usual. The golden strands bristled under the pads of her fingers, and she felt herself start to relax as her stomach settled. “It's only going to make him feel more alienated.” 

Arcann leaned in, his lips brushing against her forehead in a fleeting kiss. “It's necessary for your safety, and possibly for his as well. Theron will understand the need, especially now. You can't keep throwing yourself in front of us as if nothing's changed, Seli. Things are different, and you have to be more cautious.” 

“Theron said the same thing, that I would have to let you protect me for once. That it wasn't weakness to allow someone else to watch out for me.” 

He smiled, and she slid her fingers down over the rough, twisted skin along his jaw, stroking the scars absently. “He's right. So stop being stubborn, and at least for the time being, let us protect you and keep you safe.” 

“I'll try, keella. Will you find Malavai, and ask him to come meet us here? I'd like to have him check Theron over again, just in case. Maybe there will be something to be found that we missed, and it might feel less like an ambush to Theron if it's just the two of us at first.” 

“I'll get him.” Arcann started to pull away, and then hesitated. “We spoke, earlier, Theron and I. I can't say if things are back to normal between us, but I wanted you to know that we had talked. I know I wasn't being fair to him. This feeling that I have, whatever it is – it's so nebulous. I don't know if it is real or if I'm just harboring resentment still. Once we've spoken to him about this and figured out what their plan will be, perhaps the feeling will just go away. And perhaps it was about the murder, and not about Theron at all.” He could still feel it, that needle of dread in the back of his thoughts, the sense that something was out of balance. It was a helpless sensation, an unwelcome one. But there was nothing that he could do about it, and no way to act upon it beyond what they were already doing. 

“I hope so. I'm glad that you talked.. I hope it make things better between you. I hate seeing you like this with him, because I know it's not what you want. You care about him, keella, and he cares for you.” Selirah pulled him back to her by his hand, leaning up on her toes. Arcann bent obligingly to kiss her, his free hand sliding around the small of her back, pulling her into his body firmly. When they parted again, she stepped back, waving one hand imperiously, an affectionate smile curving her lips. “Go, go. Quit stalling. It's not as if you won't see me in a little while anyway when you bring Malavai back with you. Then you can all protect me as much as you'd like. I promise not to object.” 

Arcann's smile turned into a mocking smirk, and he chuckled disbelievingly. “I don't believe that for a moment, love. I'll see you soon.” He waited, watching the Twi'lek pass through the doorway, and then headed out into the base to find Major Quinn.


End file.
